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THE WILLIAMS EDITION OF 

A CHRIST 31 AS CAROL and THE 
CRICKET ON THE HEARTH 

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR AND LINE BY 

GEORGE ALFRED WILLIAMS 

A COMPANION VOLUME TO " MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS " 

THE BAKER & TAYLOR CO. 

...Publishers ... 
33-37 EAST SEVENTEENTH STREET. NEW YORK 



MK. ICKS 

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BEING APv o.v.iCKT*v 

CHRIST^ vl. OV 

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AS WRiTTr aPERS 

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WITH ILLUSTRA 
By C 



THE BAKER t 



t..-'j.t\ir.'V'N \ 



33~37 East Seventeenth Strski (Uniok Squarb North) 
NEW YORK 

.... 355«ta88o 2«o^At>wA3A TMo\ sAJ iwb 



'1^- 



As brisk as bees, if not altogether as light a^ fairies, 
did the four Pickwickians assemble 



MR. PICKWICK'S 
CHRISTMAS 

BEING AN ACCOUNT OF THE PICKWICKIANS' 

CHRISTMAS AT THE MANOR FARM, OF THE 

ADVENTURES THERE; THE TALE OF THE 

GOBLIN WHO STOLE A SEXTON, AND OF 

THE FAMOUS SPORTS ON THE ICE 

AS WRITTEN IN THE PICKWICK PAPERS 

By CHARLES DICKENS 

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR AND LINE 

By GEORGE ALFRED WILLIAMS 




THE BAKER ^ TAYLOR COMPANY 

33-37 East Seventeenth Street (Union Square North) 
NEW YORK 



Ccypyright, 1906. hy The Baker & Taylor Company 



Published, September, 1906 







OCT 2 1806 
.. HflWrttW Diin* 

' OOPVB 



rft« Plimpton Press Norwood Mass. U.S. A. 



INTRODUCTION 

TO begin with nothing and end with some- 
thing as great as Pickwick is an achieve- 
ment given to few men to reahse. Yet it seems 
that in this most haphazard way Pickwick was 
created. 

At the age of twenty-three Charles Dickens 
opened his door in Furnival's Inn to the managing 
partner of the firm of "Chapman and Hall." 

The idea then propounded to Dickens was that 
a monthly publication should be the vehicle for 
certain plates to be executed by Robert Seymour, 
an admirable humourist-artist of great popularity. 
These were to deal with a Nimrod Club and their 
adventures, fishing, hunting, and so forth, ren- 
dered intensely humorous by exposing the lack 
of experience and dexterity of the members. 
Dickens was requested to contribute a letter-press 

[V] 



INTRODUCTION 

to these pictures, but he objected on the grounds 
that he was not familiar enough with sports or 
the sportsman's hfe to produce such material and 
also because the idea was not fresh. He thought 
the results would be much happier if he wrote 
more freely of the English people and their cus- 
toms, and, too, it would be infinitely better were 
the plates to be inspired by the text. The sug- 
gestions were accepted and "I then wrote," says 
Dickens, *'the first number and from the proof- 
sheets Mr. Seymour made the drawing of the 
Pickwick Club, producing that happy portrait of 
the founder by which he was made a reality.'* 

In March, 1836, the first monthly number of 
the "Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club" 
made its appearance and *'. . . in less than six 
months from this time the whole reading world 
was talking about them; the names of Winkle, 
Wardle, Weller, Snodgrass, Dodson, and Fogg 
had become familiar in our mouths as household 
words. 'Pickwick chintzes' figured in linen-dra- 
pers' windows, and ' Weller corduroys ' in breeches- 

[vi] 



INTRODUCTION 

makers' advertisements; 'Boz cabs' might be seen 
rattling through the streets, and the portrait of 
the author of Pelham and Crichton was scraped 
down or pasted over to make room for that of 
the new popular favourite in the omnibuses." 

It was only natural that a work so launched, 
with the author pressed for copy for each part, 
should be lacking in any definite form or plot. 
Dickens writes in the preface to the original 
edition : 

"The publication of the book in monthly num- 
bers, containing only thirty-two pages in each, 
rendered it an object of paramount importance 
that, while the different incidents were linked 
together by a chain of interest strong enough to 
prevent their appearing unconnected or impossi- 
ble, the general design should be so simple as to 
sustain no injury from this detached and desultory 
form of publication, extending over no fewer than 
twenty months. In short, it was necessary — or 
it appeared so to the author — that every num- 
ber should be, to a certain extent, complete in 

[vii] 



INTRODUCTION 

itself, and yet that the whole twenty numbers, 
when collected, should form one tolerably har- 
monious whole, each leading to the other by a 
gentle and not unnatural progress of adventure. 

"It is obvious that in a work published with a 
view to such considerations, no artfully inter- 
woven or ingeniously complicated plot can with 
reason be expected. The author ventures to ex- 
press a hope that he has successfully surmounted 
the difficulties of his undertaking. And if it be 
objected to the Pickwick Papers, that they are a 
mere series of adventure, in which the scenes are 
ever changing, and the characters come and go 
like the men and women we encounter in the real 
world, he can only content himself with the re- 
flection that they claim to be nothing else, and 
that the same objection has been made to the 
works of some of the greatest novelists in the 
English language." 

The publishers of the present volume felt that 
the very manner in which "Pickwick" was first 
issued justifies the separate reprinting of those 

[viii] 



INTRODUCTION 

chapters which deal with the Christmas festivities 
at the Manor farm. Aside from this there is an 
especial interest attached to the Christmas senti- 
ment contained in these chapters, because it 
marks the first formal expression of that Christ- 
mas feeling to which Dickens afterwards devoted 
a considerable series of delightful works. 

It is perfectly natural that Pickwick should be 
the character to inspire Dickens to those warm, 
whole-souled thoughts at a season when our 
enthusiasm is always more perceptible. A quo- 
tation from a preface prepared for an edition of 
his writings, which was designated in the dedi- 
cation to John Forster as the best edition of his 
works, will allow us to realise the importance of 
Pickwick as such a vehicle. Dickens says: 

" It has been observed of Mr. Pickwick, that 
there is a decided change in his character, as 
these pages proceed, and that he becomes more 
good and more sensible. I do not think this 
change will appear forced or unnatural to my 
readers, if they will reflect that in real life the 

[ix] 



INTRODUCTION 

peculiarities and oddities of a man who has any- 
thing whimsical about him generally impress us 
first, and that it is not until we are better ac- 
quainted with him that we usually begin to look 
below these superficial traits, and to know the 
better part of him." 

So here at the Manor Farm we find ourselves 
joining in those wholesome sports and human 
interests that make these Christmas chapters so 
contagious. "As brisk as bees, if not altogether 
as light as fairies, did the four Pickwickians assem- 
ble on the morning of the 22nd of December." 
Who can resist such enthusiasm and not feel the 
purport of these lines. 

"And numerous indeed are the hearts to which 
Christmas brings a brief season of happiness and 
enjoyment. How many families whose members 
have been dispersed and scattered, far and wide, 
in the restless struggles of life are then reunited, 
and meet once again in that happy state of com- 
panionship and mutual good-will, which is a 
source of such pure and unalloyed delight and 

[X] 



INTRODUCTION 

one so incompatible with the cares and sorrows 
of the world, that the religious belief of the most 
civilised nations and the rude traditions of the 
roughest savages alike number it among the first 
joys of a future condition of existence provided 
for the blessed and happy! How many old 
recollections, and how many dormant sympathies, 
does Christmas time awaken! 

"We write these words now, many miles dis- 
tant from the spot at which, year after year, we 
met on that day, a merry and joyous circle. Many 
of the hearts that throbbed so gaily then have 
ceased to beat; many of the looks that shone so 
brightly then have ceased to glow; the hands we 
grasped have grown old; the eyes we sought 
have hid their lustre in the grave; and yet the old 
house, the room, the merry voices and smiling 
faces, the jest, the laugh, the most minute and 
trivial circumstances connected with those happy 
meetings, crowd upon our mind at each recur- 
rence of the season, as if the last assemblage had 
been but yesterday! Happy, happy Christmas, 

[xi] 



INTRODUCTION 

that can win us back to the dehisions of our 
childish days; that can recall to the old man the 
pleasures of his youth; and transport the sailor 
and the traveller, thousands of miles away, back 
to his own fireside and quiet home." 

What wonder that the idea to present Pickwick 
pictorially should appeal to Robert Seymour and 
inspire that famous plate, "Pickwick addressing 
the Club"! This is a happy portrait and has 
fixed for all lime the indelible image of its 
subject upon the world's mind. 

In this matter of ])ictorial embellishment Dick- 
ens's writings have always held a unique position. 
Dickens himself preferred to have his works 
appear unadorned by pictures, but the demand 
made by his public called into service the most 
talented pencils from George Cruikshank to Fred- 
erick Barnard. Hence, beside the plates for the 
original editions, we have innumerable engrav- 
ings for subsequent editions and for special forms 
of reproduction. 

Forster, the biographer of Dickens, informs us 
[xii] 



INTRODUCTION 

that rarely, if ever, did anything but disappoint- 
ment await the noveHst so far as the illustrations 
were concerned; a fact easily determined by tra- 
cing the dissatisfaction he evinced through his 
intimate and friendly intercourse with the pictorial 
interpreters of his text. 

The artist of the earlier part of the nineteenth 
century seldom resorted to the use of the living 
model in preparing their pictures, and this in no 
small way accounts for the puppet-like appearance 
of many of their figures. The only guide was the 
vivid descriptions of the author, an artist who 
drew all his inspiration from life. 

However, in the early sixties there arose a new 
school of illustrators who lavished the same care 
upon the preparation of an illustration as a painter 
does upon his canvases. The result was a series 
of pictures filled with human interest, — pictures 
not relying upon exaggeration of details and facial 
expression to convey their meaning. The only 
claim that can be made for the early plates as 
compared to these later ones is their charm of 

[xiii] 



INTRODUCTION 

association. Work of men such as Frederick 
Barnard and Charles Green far surpasses tech- 
nically these earlier productions and gives to us 
an interpretation more human and living. 

In the illustration of the original edition of 
*' Pickwick " we are concerned with three artists, 
Robert Seymour, Robert Buss, and Hablot K. 
Browne, better known as "Phiz." 

Seymour's services were prematurely ended by 
his suicide. His successor. Buss, was also of short 
duration and evidently not satisfactory to the 
author or publisher, for there follows a long list of 
applicants desiring to fill the vacant post, among 
them Wm. M. Thackeray. In responding to a 
toast of "Literature," at the Royal Academy 
banquet years after, the latter said, "I can re- 
member when Mr. Dickens was a very young man 
and had commenced delighting the world with 
some charming humorous works, of which I can- 
not mention the name but which were coloured 
light green and came out once a month, that 
this young man wanted an artist to illustrate his 

[xiv] 



INTRODUCTION 

writings, and I recollect walking up to his cham- 
bers with two or three drawings in my hand, 
which, strange to say, he did not find suitable. 
But for that unfortunate blight which came over 
my artistical existence it would have been my 
pride and my pleasure to have endeavoured one 
day to find a place on these walls for one of my 
performances.'* Later he alluded to the rejection 
of his services as "Mr. Pickwick's lucky escape." 

In the end Browne was accepted and of all the 
illustrators of those early editions he is the one 
par excellence, excepting only Luke Fildes R. A., 
the illustrator of the first edition of " Edwin 
Drood." 

When Fildes interviewed Dickens preparatory 
to taking up this commission, he informed the 
author that although he appreciated the honour of 
being selected to illustrate "Edwin Drood," he 
felt compelled to forego most reluctantly the 
pleasure of it if the designs had to be of a comic 
and wholly humorous nature after the manner 
of Phiz and his predecessors. He reminded 

[XV] 



INTRODUCTION 

Dickens that his writings possessed an intensely 
serious as well as a jocular side and would lend 
themselves admirably to a graver style of hand- 
ling. Dickens replied that he was rather tired of 
having his illustrators consider him entirely as a 
humourist and caricaturist. While there is a 
vast difference between " Pickwick " and " Edwin 
Drood," yet there is much of serious life depicted 
in the various escapades of the club, and it is the 
keen appreciation of this quality that seems to 
have escaped entirely the earlier artists. 

We turn to Charles Green and find in his series 
of large water-colours one entitled, *' The Pickwick 
Club,*' and our intimate friend clothed, not in 
caricature, but in all the atmosphere of reality, 
losing thereby none of his jovial and comic char- 
acteristics. The real Winkle, the real Snodgrass, 
the real Tupman, are listening to his address, and 
the unnatural elements of the first plates have 
given way to a more suitable form of expression 
though retaining the quaint humour of the text. 

Who does not find here the Pickwick we 
[xvi] 



INTRODUCTION 

have always sought - the Pickwick created by 
Dickens ? 

The writer has endeavoured to produce in this 
series of pictures the true atmosphere, human in 
the blending of the serious and the comic, and 
to give to them the semblance of reality {)roduced 
in our minds by the text. 

George Alfred Williams. 

Chatfuim, N. J. 



[ xvii ] 



CONTENTS 
CHAPTER I 

PAGE 

A good-humoured Christmas chapter, containing an 
account of a wedding, and some other sports beside, 
which although in their way, even as good customs 
as marriage itself, are not quite so religiously kept 
up, in these degenerate times 25 

CHAPTER II 

I'he Story of the Goblins who stole a Sexton ... 87 

CHAPTER III 

How the Pickwickians made and cultivated the ac- 
quaintance of a couple of nice young men. belonging 
to one of the liberal professions; how they disported 
themselves on the ice ; and how their visit came to 
a conclusion . . . . ■ 118 



[xix] 




ILLUSTRATIONS 



As brisk as bees, if not altogether as light as fairies, did 

the four Pickwickians assemble . . . Fr()nlis|)iece 

Faciiuj I'age 

Emily Wardle 42 

Then the old church bell rang . . . and they all re- 
turned to breakfast 56 

A five and twenty mile vmlk, undertaken by the males . 

at Wardle's recommendation 64 

Wardle singing the Christmas Carol 80 

As he wended his way up the ancient street, he saw 

the cheerful ligJU of the blazing fires .... 90 
Gabriel started up, and stood rooted to the spot with 

astonishment and terror 90 

A rich and beautiful landscape was disclosed to view . 110 

" How slippery it is, Sam / " 130 

Went slowly and gravely down the slide, with his feet 

about a yard and a quarter apart 138 

[xxi] 



A GOOD-HUMOURED CHRISTMAS 
CHAPTER 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 
CHAPTER I 

A GOOD-HUMOURED CHRISTMAS CHAPTER, CON- 
TAINING AN ACCOUNT OF A WEDDING, AND 
SOME OTHER SPORTS BESIDE, WHICH AL- 
THOUGH IN THEIR WAY, EVEN AS GOOD 
CUSTOMS AS MARRIAGE ITSELF, ARE NOT 
QUITE SO RELIGIOUSLY KEPT UP, IN THESE 
DEGENERATE TIMES. 

A S brisk as bees, if not altogether as light 
-^ ^ as fairies, did the four Pickwickians as- 
semble on the morning of the twenty-second 
day of December, in the year of grace in which 
these, their faithfully-recorded adventures, were 
undertaken and accomplished. Christmas was 
close at hand, in all his bluff and hearty hon- 
esty; it was the season of hospitality, merriment, 
and open-heartedness; the old year was prepar- 
ing, like an ancient philosopher, to call his 

[25] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

friends around him, and amidst the sound of 
feasting and revelry to pass gently and calmly 
away. Gay and merry was the time; and right 
gay and merry were at least four of the numer- 
ous hearts that were gladdened by its coming. 

And numerous indeed are the hearts to which 
Christmas brings a brief season of happiness 
and enjoyment. How many families whose 
members have been dispersed and scattered far 
and wide, in the restless struggles of life, are 
then reunited) and meet once again in that 
happy state of companionship and mutual good- 
will, which is a source of such pure and un- 
alloyed delight, and one so incompatible with 
the cares and sorrows of the world, that the 
religious belief of the most civilised nations, and 
the rude traditions of the roughest savages, alike 
number it among the first joys of a future state 
of existence, provided for the blest and happy! 
How many old recollections, and how many dor- 
mant sympathies, does Christmas time awaken! 

We write these words now, many miles dis- 
[26] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

tant from the spot at which, year after year, we 
met on that day, a merry and joyous circle. 
Many of the hearts that throbbed so gaily then, 
have ceased to beat; many of the looks that 
shone so brightly then, have ceased to glow; the 
hands we grasped, have grown cold; the eyes 
we sought, have hid their lustre in the grave; 
and yet the old house, the room, the merry 
voices and smiling faces, the jest, the laugh, the 
most minute and trivial circumstance connected 
with those happy meetings, crowd upon our 
mind at each recurrence of the season, as if 
the last assemblage had been but yesterday. 
Happy, happy Christmas, that can win us back 
to the delusions of our childish days, that can 
recall to the old man the pleasures of his youth, 
and transport the sailor and the traveller, thou- 
sands of miles away, back to his own fireside 
and his quiet home! 

But we are so taken up, and occupied, with 
the good qualities of Christmas, who, by the 
way, is quite a country gentleman of the old 

[27] 



MR. riCKVVlCK'S CllUlSTMAS 

school* ll«nl \\(' arc kcopinjj; Mr. Pickwick and 
Ills fri(Mitls Nvailiii*; in llic cold, on \hv outside 
(>r I lie Mii«:;«2;U'l()n coach, which llicy have just 
attained, well wrapped up, in ^roat-oouts, 
shawls, and cond'oiicrs. Tlic porlnianlcaus and 
car|)ot-ha«j;s have he(Mi slowed away, and Mr. 
\V<'Iler and Ihe «^nard are (Mideavonrin*;" lo in- 
sinuate inio I he fore-hoot a hn^e cod-fish several 
sizes loo larii;e for it, which is siui<i;ly [)aeked up, 
in a lon<j; hrt)wn hasktl, wilh a layer of straw 
over llu' lop, and which has hccMi left lo the 
last, in order Ihal he may rt^pose in safety on 
llu* half-do/en barrels of vciA native oysters, all 
ihe properly of INlr. Pickwick, which liave been 
arran«;ed in regular order, at the bottom of the 
reee[)laclt\ The interest displayed in Mr, Pick- 
wick's countenance is most intense, as INTr. 
Weller and tht» i^nard try to st|ueeze the ood-tish 
iutt» the boot, first lu^ul first, and then tail 
first, and then top u}>wards, and then bottom 
upwards, and tluMi sitleways, ami then louiiij- 
Nvays, all of which artifices the im[>lacable cod- 

1 -S ] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

fish sturdily resists, until the guard accidentally 
hits him in the very middle of the basket, 
whereupon he suddenly disappears into the 
boot, and with him, the head and shoulders of 
the guard himself, who, not calculating upon so 
sudden a cessation of the passive resistance of 
the cod-fish, experiences a very unexpected 
shock, to the unsmotherable delight of all the 
porters and by-standers. Upon this, Mr. Pick- 
wick smiles with great good humour, and draw- 
ing a shilling from his waistcoat pocket, begs 
the guard, as he picks himself out of the boot, 
to drink his health in a glass of hot brandy 
and water, at which, the guard smiles too, and 
Messrs. Snodgrass, Winkle, and Tupman, all 
smile in company. The guard and Mr. Weller 
disappear for five minutes, most probably to 
get the hot brandy and water, for they smell 
very strongly of it, when they return, the coach- 
man mounts to the box, Mr. Weller jumps up 
behind, the Pickwickians pull their coats round 
their legs, and their shawls over their noses; the 

[ ^^^> ] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

helpers pull the horse-cloths off, the coachman 
shouts out a cheery "All right," and away 
they go. 

They have rumbled through the streets, and 
jolted over the stones, and at length reach the 
wide and open country. The wheels skim over 
the hard and frosty ground; and the horses, 
bursting into a canter at a smart crack of the 
whip, step along the road as if the load behind 
them, coach, passengers, cod-fish, oyster barrels, 
and all, were but a feather at their heels. 
They have descended a gentle slope, and enter 
upon a level, as compact and dry as a solid 
block of marble, two miles long. Another crack 
of the whip, and on they speed, at a smart 
gallop, the horses tossing their heads and rattling 
the harness as if in exhilaration at the rapidity 
of the motion, while the coachman, holding 
whip and reins in one hand, takes off his hat 
with the other, and resting it on his knees, pulls 
out his handkerchief, and wipes his forehead, 
partly because he has a habit of doing it, and 

[30] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

partly because it's as well to shew the pas- 
sengers how cool he is, and what an easy thing 
it is to drive four-in-hand, when you have had 
as much practice as he has. Having done this 
very leisurely (otherwise the effect would be 
materially impaired), he replaces his hand- 
kerchief, pulls on his hat, adjusts his gloves, 
squares his elbows, cracks the whip again, and 
on they speed, more merrily than before. 

A few small houses, scattered on either side 
of the road, betoken the entrance to some town 
or village. The lively notes of the guard's key- 
bugle vibrate in the clear cold air, and wake up 
the old gentleman inside, who carefully letting 
down the window-sash half way, and standing 
sentry over the air, takes a short peep out, 
and then carefully pulling it up again, informs 
the other inside that they're going to change 
directly; on which the other inside wakes him- 
self up, and determines to postpone his next 
nap until after the stoppage. Again the bugle 
sounds lustily forth, and rouses the cottager's 

[31] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

wife and children, who peep out at the house- 
door, and watch the coach till it turns the 
corner, when they once more crouch round the 
blazing fire, and throw on another log of wood 
against father comes home, while father him- 
self, a full mile off, has just exchanged a 
friendly nod with the coachman, and turned 
round, to take a good long stare at the vehicle 
as it whirls away. 

And now the bugle plays a lively air as the 
coach rattles through the ill-paved streets of a 
country town; and the coachman, undoing the 
buckle which keeps his ribands together, pre- 
pares to throw them off the moment he stops. 
Mr. Pickwick emerges from his coat collar, 
and looks about him with great curiosity; per- 
ceiving which, the coachman informs Mr. Pick- 
wick of the name of the town, and tells him it 
was market-day yesterday, both which pieces 
of information Mr. Pickwick retails to his fellow- 
passengers, whereupon they emerge from their 
coat collars too, and look about them also. Mr. 

[32] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 



Winkle, who sits at the extreme edge, with one 
leg dangling in the air, is nearly precipitated 
into the street, as the coach twists round the 
sharp corner by the cheesemonger's shop, and 
turns into the market-place ; and before Mr. 
Snodgrass, who sits next to 
him, has recovered from his 
alarm, they pull up at the 
inn yard, where the fresh 
horses, with cloths on, are 
already waiting. The coach- 
man throws down the reins 
and gets down himself, and 
the other outside passengers 
drop down also, except those 
who have no great confidence in their ability 
to get up again, and they remain where they 
are, and stamp their feet against the coach to 
warm them; looking with longing eyes and red 
noses at the bright fire in the inn bar, and the 
sprigs of holly with red berries which ornament 
the window. 

[33] 




MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

But the guard has delivered at the corn- 
dealer's shop, the brown paper packet he took 
out of the little pouch which hangs over his 
shoulder by a leathern strap, and has seen the 
horses carefully put to, and has thrown on the 
pavement the saddle which was brought from 
London on the coach-roof, and has assisted in 
the conference between the coachman and the 
hostler about the grey mare that hurt her off- 
fore-leg last Tuesday, and he and Mr. Weller 
are all right behind, and the coachman is all 
right in front, and the old gentleman inside, 
who has kept the window down full two inches 
all this time, has pulled it up again, and the 
cloths are off, and they are all ready for start- 
ing, except the "two stout gentlemen," whom 
the coachman enquires after with some im- 
patience. Hereupon the coachman, and the 
guard, and Sam Weller, and Mr. Winkle, and 
Mr. Snodgrass, and all the hostlers, and every 
one of the idlers, who are more in number than 
all the others put together, shout for the missing 

[34] 







MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

gentleman as loud as they can bawl. A distant 
response is heard from the yard, and Mr. Pick- 
wick and Mr. Tupman come running down it, 
quite out of breath, for they have been having 
a glass of ale a-piece, and Mr. Pickwick's fingers 
are so cold that he has been full five minutes 
before he could find the sixpence to pay for it. 
The coachman shouts an admonitory "Now, 
then, gen'lm'n," the guard re-echoes it — the 
old gentleman inside, thinks it a very extraor- 
dinary thing that people will get down when 
they know there isn't time for it — Mr. Pick- 
wick struggles up on one side, Mr. Tupman on 
the other, Mr. Winkle cries **A11 right," and off 
they start. Shawls are pulled up, coat collars 
are re-adjusted, the pavement ceases, the houses 
disappear; and they are once again dashing 
along the open road, with the fresh clear air 
blowing in their faces, and gladdening their 
very hearts within them. 

Such was the progress of Mr. Pickwick and 
his friends by the Muggleton Telegraph, on 

[35] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

their way to Dingley Dell; and at three o'clock 
that afternoon, they all stood, high and dry, 
safe and sound, hale and hearty, upon the steps 
of the Blue Lion, having taken on the road quite 
enough of ale and brandy, to 
enable them to bid defiance to 
the frost that was binding up 
the earth in its iron fetters, and 
weaving its beautiful net-work 
upon the trees and hedges. Mr. 
Pickwick was busily engaged in 
counting the barrels of oysters, 
and superintending the disinter- 
ment of the cod-fish, when he 
felt himself gently pulled by the 
skirts of the coat; and looking 
round, he discovered that the individual who 
resorted to this mode of catching his attention, 
was no other than Mr. Wardle's favourite page, 
better known to the readers of this unvarnished 
history by the distinguishing appellation of the 
fat boy. 

[36] 




MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

"Aha!" said Mr. Pickwick. 

"Aha!" said the fat bo^. 

And as he said it, he glanced from the cod- 
fish to the oyster barrels, and chuckled joyously. 
He was fatter than ever. 

" Well, you look rosy enough, my young friend," 
said Mr. Pickwick. 

"I've been asleep, right in front of the tap- 
room fire," replied the fat boy, who had heated 
himself to the colour of a new chimney-pot, in the 
course of an hour's nap. "Master sent me over 
with the chay-cart, to carry your luggage up to 
the house. He'd ha' sent some saddle horses, but 
he thought you'd rather walk, being a cold day." 

"Yes, yes," said Mr. Pickwick, hastily, for 
he remembered how they had travelled over 
nearly the same ground on a previous occasion. 
"Yes, we would rather walk. Here, Sam." 
"Sir," said Mr. Weller. 

"Help Mr. Wardle's servant to put the pack- 
ages into the cart, and then ride on with him. 
We will walk forward at once." 

[37] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

Having given this direction, and settled with 
the coachman, Mr. Pickwick and his three 
friends struck into the footpath across the fields, 
and walked briskly away, leaving Mr. Weller 
and the fat boy confronted together for the first 
time. Sam looked at the fat boy with great 
astonishment, but without saying a word; and 
began to stow the things rapidly away in the 
cart, while the fat boy stood quietly by, and 
seemed to think it a very interesting sort of thing 
to see Mr. Weller working by himself. 

"There," said Sam, throwing in the last car- 
pet bag. *' There they are." 

"Yes," said the fat boy, in a very satisfied 
tone, "there they are." 

"Veil, young twenty stun," said Sam, "you're 
a nice specimen of a prize boy, you are." 

"Thankee," said the fat boy. 

"You ain't got nothin' on your mind, as 
makes you fret yourself, have you.^" inquired 
Sam. 

"Not as I knows on," replied the boy. 
[38] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

"I should rayther ha' thought, to look at you, 
that you was a labourin' under an unrequited 
attachment to some young 'ooman," said Sam. 

The fat boy shook his head. 

"Veil," said Sam, "I'm glad to hear it. Do 
you ever drink anythin'?" 

"I likes eating, better," replied the boy. 

"Ah," said Sam, "I should ha' s'posed that; 
but what I mean is, should you like a drop of 
anythin' as'd warm you.? but I s'pose you never 
was cold, with all them elastic fixtures, was 
you.?" 

"Sometimes," replied the boy; "and I likes a 
drop of something, when it's good." 

"Oh, you do, do you.?" said Sam, "come this 
vay, then." 

The Blue Lion tap was soon gained, and the 
fat boy swallowed a glass of liquor without so 
much as winking, — a feat which considerably 
advanced him in Mr. Weller's good opinion. Mr. 
Weller having transacted a similar piece of busi- 
ness on his own account, they got into the cart. 

[39] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

"Can you drive?" said the fat boy. 

"I should rayther think so," rephed Sam. 

"There, then," said the fat boy, putting the 
reins in his hand, and pointing up a lane, "It's 
as straight as you can go; you can't miss it." 

With these words, the fat boy laid himself 
affectionately down by the side of the cod-fish, 
and placing an oyster-barrel under his head for 
a pillow, fell asleep instantaneously. 

"Veil," said Sam, "of all the cool boys ever I 
set my eyes on, this here young gen'lm'n is about 
the coolest. Come, vake up, young dropsy." 

But as young dropsy evinced no symptoms of 
returning animation, Sam Weller sat himself down 
in front of the cart, and starting the old horse 
with a jerk of the rein, jogged steadily on, towards 
Manor Farm. 

Meanwhile, Mr. Pickwick and his friends hav- 
ing walked their blood into active circulation, 
proceeded cheerfully on; the paths were hard, the 
grass was crisp and frosty, the air had a fine, 
dry, bracing coldness, and the rapid approach of 

[40] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

the grey twilight (slate-coloured is a better term 
in frosty weather) made them look forward with 
pleasant anticipation to the comforts which awaited 
them at their hospitable entertainer's. It was the 
sort of afternoon that might induce a couple of 
elderly gentlemen, in a lonely field, to take off 
their great coats and play at leap-frog in pure 
lightness of heart and gaiety; and we firmly believe 
that had Mr. Tupman at that moment proffered 
"a back," Mr. Pickwick would have accepted his 
offer with the utmost avidity. 

However, Mr. Tupman did not volunteer any 
such personal accommodation, and the friends 
walked on, conversing merrily. As they turned 
into a lane which they had to cross, the sound of 
many voices burst upon their ears; and before they 
had even had time to form a guess as to whom 
they belonged, they walked into the very centre 
of the party who were expecting their arrival — a 
fact which was first notified to the Pickwickians, 
by the loud "Hurrah," which burst from old 
Wardle's lips, when they appeared in sight. 

[41] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

First, there was Wardle himself, looking, if that 
were possible, more jolly than ever; then there 
were Bella and her faithful Trundle; and, lastly, 
there were Emily and some eight or ten young 
ladies, who had all come down to the wedding 
which was to take place next day, and were in 
as happy and important a state as young ladies 
usually are, on such momentous occasions; and 
they were, one and all, startling the fields and 
lanes far and wide with their frolic and laughter. 

The ceremony of introduction, under such cir- 
cumstances, was very soon performed, or we 
should rather say that the introduction was soon 
over, without any ceremony at all; and in two 
minutes thereafter, Mr. Pickwick was joking with 
the young ladies who wouldn't come over the stile 
while he looked, or who, having pretty feet and 
unexceptionable ankles, preferred standing on the 
top-rail for five minutes or so, and declaring that 
they were too frightened to move, with as much 
ease and absence of reserve or constraint, as if 
he had known them for life. It is worthy of 

[42] 



,\'1 




.,.-v 



Etidljl Wiinllc. 



MR. PICKWICK'S CinilSTMAS 




remark too, that Mr. Snodgrass offered Emily far 
more assistance than the absolute terrors of the 
stile (although it was full three feet high, and 

[45] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

had only a couple of stepping-stones) would seem 
to require; while one black-eyed young lady in a 
very nice little pair of boots with fur round the 
top, was observed to scream very loudly, when 
Mr. Winkle offered to help her over. 

All this was very snug and pleasant: and when 
the diflSculties of the stile were at last surmounted, 
and they once more entered on the open field, 
old Wardle informed Mr. Pickwick how they had 
all been down in a body to inspect the furniture 
and fittings-up of the house, which the young 
couple were to tenant, after the Christmas holi- 
days; at which communication Bella and Trundle 
both coloured up, as red as the fat boy after the 
tap-room fire; and the young lady with the black 
eyes and the fur round the boots, whispered some- 
thing in Emily's ear, and then glanced archly at 
Mr. Snodgrass, to which Emily responded that 
she was a foolish girl, but turned very red, not- 
withstanding; and Mr. Snodgrass, who was as 
modest as all great geniuses usually are, felt the 
crimson rising to the crown of his head, and 

[46] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

devoutly wished, in the inmost recesses of liis 
own heart, that the young hidy aforesaid, with 
her black eyes, and her archness, and her boots 
with the fur round the top, were all comfortably 
deposited in the adjacent county. 

But if they were social and happy, outside the 
house, what was the warmth and cordiality of 
their reception when they reached the farm ! The 
very servants grinned with pleasure at sight of 
Mr. Pickwick: and Emma bestowed a half-de- 
mure, half-impudent, and all pretty look of 
recognition on Mr. Tupman, which was enough 
to make the statue of Bonaparte in the pas- 
sage, unfold his arms, and clasp her within 
them. 

The old lady was seated in customary state in 
the front parlour, but she was rather cross, and 
by consequence, most particularly deaf. She 
never went out herself, and like a great many 
other old ladies of the same stamp, she was apt 
to consider it an act of domestic treason, if any 
body else took the liberty of doing what she 

[47] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 



couldn't. So, bless her old soul, she sat as up- 
right as she could, in her great chair, and looked 
as fierce as might be — and that was benevolent 
after all. 

*' Mother," said Wardle, "Mr. Pickwick. You 
recollect him." 

"Never mind," repHed the old lady with great 

dignity. "Don't 
trouble Mr. Pick- 
wick about an old 
creetur like me. 
Nobody cares 
about me now, and 
it's very nat'ral 
they shouldn't." 
a\ Here the old lady 
tossed her head, 
)yj^ and smoothed 
i^^''^^:^ down her lavender- 

coloured silk dress, with trembling hands. 

"Come, come, Ma'am," said Mr. Pickwick, "I 
can't let you cut an old friend in this way. I have 

[48] 




MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

come down expressly to have a long talk, and 
another rubber with you; and we'll show these 
boys and girls how to dance a minuet, before 
they're eight- and-forty hours older." 

The old lady was rapidly giving way, but she 
did not like to do it all at once; so she only said, 
"Ah: I can't hear him." 

"Nonsense, mother," said Wardle. "Come, 
come, don't be cross, there's a good soul. Recol- 
lect Bella; come, you must keep her spirits up, 
poor girl." 

The good old lady heard this, for her lip quiv- 
ered as her son said it. But age has its little 
infirmities of temper, and she was not quite brought 
round yet. So, she smoothed down the lavender- 
coloured dress again, and turning to Mr. Pickwick 
said, "Ah, Mr. Pickwick, young people was very 
different, when I was a girl." 

"No doubt of that. Ma'am," said Mr. Pickwick, 
"and that's the reason why I would make much 
of the few that have any traces of the old stock," 
— and saying this, Mr. Pickwick gently pulled 

[40] 



MR, PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

Bella towards him, and bestowing a kiss upon her 
forehead, bade her sit down on the little stool at 
her grandmother's feet. Whether the expression 
of her countenance, as it was raised towards the 
old lady's face, called up a thought of old times, 
or whether the old lady was touched by Mr. 
Pickwick's affectionate good nature, or whatever 
was the cause, she was fairly melted; so, she 
threw herself on her grand-daughter's neck, and 
all the little ill-humour evaporated in a gush of 
silent tears. 

A happy party they were, that night. Sedate 
and solemn were the score of rubbers in which 
Mr. Pickwick and the old lady played together; 
and uproarious was the mirth of the round table. 
Long after the ladies had retired, did the hot elder 
wine, well qualified with brandy and spice, go 
round, and round, and round again; and sound 
was the sleep, and pleasant were the dreams that 
followed. It is a remarkable fact, that those of 
Mr. Snodgrass bore constant reference to Emily 
Wardle; and that the principal figure in Mr. 

[50] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

Winkle's visions, was a young lady with black 
eyes, an arch smile, and a pair of remarkably 
nice boots, with fur round the tops. 

Mr. Pickwick was awakened early in the morn- 
ing, by a hum of voices and pattering of feet, 
sufficient to rouse even the fat boy from his heavy 
slumbers. He sat up in bed, and listened. The 
female servants and female visitors were running 
constantly to and fro; and there were such multi- 
tudinous demands for warm water, such repeated 
outcries for needles and thread, and so many half- 
suppressed entreaties of "Oh, do come and tie 
me, there's a dear," that Mr. Pickwick in his 
innocence began to imagine that something dread- 
ful must have occurred, when he grew more 
awake, and remembered the wedding. The occa- 
sion being an important one, he dressed himself 
with peculiar care, and descended to the breakfast 
room. 

There were all the female servants in a bran 
new uniform of pink muslin gowns with white 
bows in their caps, running about the house in a 

[51] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHIUSTMAS 

state of excitcnuMil mul iigiliitioii, which it would 
be impossibh' to (Inscribe. The old huly was 
(h-essed out, iu a brocaded gown, which had not 
se( II I lie light for twenty years, saving and excepl- 
ing sMch truant rays as had stolen through the 
chinks in I he box in which it had been laid by, 
during Ihe whole time. Mr. Trundle was in higli 
fealher and spirits, but a little nervous withal. 
Tlu* hearly old landlord was trying to look very 
cheerful and unconcerned, but failing signally in 
the attempt. All Ihe girls were in tears and while 
muslin, except a select two or three, who were 
l)eing honoured with a private view of the bride 
jMid bridesmaids, up stairs. All the Pickwickians 
were in most blooming array; and there was a 
terrific roaring on the grass in front oT Ihe house, 
occasioned by all the men, boys, and hobblede- 
hoys attached to the farm, each of whom liad got 
a white bow in his bultonhole, and all of whom 
were cheering with might and main: l)eing incited 
therelo, and stinndaled therein, by the prece})t 
Mud exiiniple of Mr. Samuel Weller, who had 



MR. riClvWlCK'S CHRISTMAS 

manji^od to IxToinc mi^lily popular already, nnd 
was as imicli al liome as if lie had Ixhmi horn on 
the land. 

A wcMlding is a licensed sid)jeet to joke upon, 
but there really is no great joke in the matter 
after all; we sj)eak merely of the ceremony, and 
beg it to be distinclly understood that w(i in- 
dulge in no hidden sarcasm u})on a married 
hfe. Mixed up wilh the ])leasure and joy of 
the occasion, are Ihe nuiiiy regrets Jii (luitting 
home, the tears of parting between parent and 
child, the consciousness of leaving the dearest 
and kindest friends of the hap])iesl portion of 
human life, to encounter its cares and troubles 
with others still untried, and litth' known 
natural feelings which we would not reiuh'r this 
chapter mournful by describing, and which we 
should be still more unwilHng to })e su])])osed 
to ridicule. 

Let us l)ricfly say, then, that the ceremony 
was performed by the old clergyman, in the 
parish church of Dinglcy Dell, and that Mr. 

[ r>'i ] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

Pickwick's name is attached to the register, still 
preserved in the vestry thereof; that the young 
lady with the black eyes signed her name in a 
very unsteady and tremulous manner; and that 
Emily's signature, as the other bridesmaid, is 
nearly illegible; that it all went off in very ad- 
mirable style; that the young ladies generally, 
thought it far less shocking than they expected; 
and that although the owner of the black eyes 
and the arch smile informed Mr. Winkle that 
she was sure she could never submit to anything 
so dreadful, we have the very best reasons for 
thinking she was mistaken. To all this, we 
may add, that Mr. Pickwick was the first who 
saluted the bride: and that in so doing, he threw 
over her neck, a rich gold watch and chain, 
which no mortal eyes but the jeweller's had ever 
beheld before. Then the old church bell rang 
as gaily as it could, and they all returned to 
breakfast. 

'^Vere does the mince-pies go, young opium 
eater?'* said Mr. Weller to the fat boy, as he 

[54] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

assisted in laying out such articles of consump- 
tion as had not been duly arranged on the pre- 
vious night. 

The fat hoy pointed to the destination of the 
pies. 

"Wcry good," said Sam, "stick a bit o' Christ- 
mas in 'em. T'other dish opposite. There; now 
ve look compact and comfortable, as the father 
said ven he cut his little boy's head off, to cure 
him o' squintin'." 

As Mr. Weller made the comparison, he fell 
back a step or two, to give full effect to it, and 
surveyed the preparations with the utmost satis- 
faction. 

"Wardle," said Mr. Pickwick, almost as soon 
as they were all seated, "a glass of wine, in 
honour of this happy occasion!" 

"I shall be delighted, my boy," said Wardle. 
"Joe — damn that boy, he's gone to sleep." 

"No, I ain't, Sir," repHed the fat boy, starting 
up from a remote corner, where, like the patron 
saint of fat boys — the immortal Horner — he 



MR. nCKWlCK'S CHRISTMAS 

had boon devouring a Christmas })io, though not 
with the coohiess and dcUbcration which charac- 
terised that young gentk^uuin*s proceedings. 

"Fill Mr. riekwick's glass." 
ics, Sir. 

The fat boy filled Mr. Pickwick's glass, and 
then retired behind liis master's chair, from 
whence he watched the ])lay of the knives and 
forks, and the progress of the choice morsels, 
from the dishes, to the mouths of the company, 
with a kind of dark and gloomy joy that was 
most impressive. 

"God bless you, old fellow," said Mr. Tick- 
wick. 

"Same to you, my boy," replied Wardle; and 
they })ledged each other, heartily. 

"Mrs. Wardle," said Mr. Tickwick, "we old 
folks must have a glass of wine together, in hon- 
our of this joyful event." 

The old lady was in a state of great grandeur 
just then, for she was silting at the top of the 
table in her brocaded gown, with her newly- 

[ ."'« ] 




Then the old church bell rang and they all returned to hreakfast. 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

married grand-daughter on one side, and Mr. 
Pickwick on the other, to do the carving. Mr. 
Pickwick had not spoken in a very loud tone, 
but she understood him at once, and drank off 
a full glass of wine to his long life and happi- 
ness; after which the worthy old soul launched 
forth into a minute and particular account of 
her own wedding, with a dissertation on the 
fashion of wearing high-heeled shoes, and some 
particulars concerning the life and adventures 
of the beautiful Lady Tollimglower, deceased, 
at all of which the old lady herself laughed very 
heartily indeed, and so did the young ladies too, 
for they were wondering among themselves what 
on earth grandma was talking about. When 
they laughed, the old lady laughed ten times 
more heartily: and said that they always had 
been considered capital stories, which caused 
them all to laugh again, and put the old lady 
into the very best of humours. Then the cake 
was cut, and passed through the ring; and the 
young ladies saved pieces to put under their 

[59] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

pillows to dream of their future husbands on; 
and a great deal of blushing and merriment was 
thereby occasioned. 

"Mr. Miller," said Mr. Pickwick to his old 
acquaintance, the hard-headed gentleman, "a 
glass of wine?" 

"With great satisfaction Mr. Pickwick," re- 
plied the hard-headed gentleman, solemnly. 

"You'll take me in?" said the benevolent old 
clergyman. 

"And me," interposed his wife. 

"And me, and me," said a couple of poor 
relations at the bottom of the table, who had 
eaten and drank very heartily, and laughed at 
every thing. 

Mr. Pickwick expressed his heartfelt delight 
at every additional suggestion; and his eyes 
beamed with hilarity and cheerfulness. 

"Ladies and gentlemen," said Mr. Pickwick, 
suddenly rising — 

"Hear, hear! Hear, hear! Hear, hear!" said 
Mr. Weller, in the excitement of his feelings. 

[ <!<> ] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

"Call in all the servants," cried old Wardle, 
interposing to prevent the public rebuke which 
Mr. Weller would otherwise most indubitably 
have received from his master. "Give them a 
glass of wine each, to drink the toast in. Now, 
Pickwick." 

Amidst the silence of the company, the whis- 
pering of the women servants, and the awkward 
embarrassment of the men, Mr. Pickwick pro- 
ceeded. 

"Ladies and gentlemen — no, I won't say 
ladies and gentlemen, I'll call you my friends, 
my dear friends, if the ladies will allow me to 
take so great a liberty" — 

Here Mr. Pickwick was interrupted by im- 
mense applause from the ladies, echoed by the 
gentlemen, during which the owner of the eyes 
was distinctly heard to state that she could kiss 
that dear Mr. Pickwick, whereupon Mr. Winkle 
gallantly inquired if it couldn't be done by deputy, 
to which the young lady with the black eyes re- 
plied, "Go away" — and accompanied the re- 

[01] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

quest with a look which said as plainly as a look 
could do — *' if you can." 

"My dear friends," resumed Mr. Pickwick, "I 
am going to propose the health of the bride and 
bridegroom — God bless 'em (cheers and tears). 
My young friend Trundle, I believe to be a very 
excellent and manly fellow; and his wife I know 
to be a very amiable and lovely girl, well quali- 
fied to transfer to another sphere of action the 
happiness which for twenty years she has diffused 
around her, in her father's house. (Here, the 
fat boy burst forth into stentorian blubberings, 
and was led forth by the coat collar, by Mr. 
Weller.) I wish," added Mr. Pickwick, "I wish 
I was young enough to be her sister's* husband, 
(cheers), but, failing that, I am happy to be old 
enough to be her father; for, being so, I shall 
not be suspected of any latent designs when I 
say, that I admire, esteem, and love them both 
(cheers and sobs). The bride's father, our good 
friend there, is a noble person, and I am proud 
to know him (great uproar). He is a kind, 

[62] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

excellent, independent-spirited, fine-hearted, lios- 
pitable, liberal man (enthusiastic shouts from the 
poor relations, at all the adjectives; and especially 
at the last two). That his daughter may enjoy 
all the happiness, even he can desire; and that he 
may derive from the contemplation of her felicity 
all the gratification of heart and peace of mind 
which he so well deserves, is, I am persuaded, 
our united wish. So, let us drink their healths, 
and wish them prolonged life, and every blessing." 
Mr. Pickwick concluded amidst a whirlwind 
of applause; and once more were the lungs of 
the supernumeraries, under Mr. Weller's com- 
mand, brought into active and efficient opera- 
tion. Mr. Wardle proposed Mr. Pickwick; and 
Mr. Pickwick proposed the old lady. Mr. Snod- 
grass proposed Mr. Wardle, and Mr. Wardle 
proposed Mr. Snodgrass. One of the poor re- 
lations proposed Mr. Tupman, and the other 
poor relation proposed Mr. Winkle; and all was 
happiness and festivity, until the mysterious (h's- 
appearance of both the poor relations beneath 

[03] 



MR. PK^KWK K'S CHRISTMAS 

ilio liiblo, warned (lie parly lliat it was lime to 
adjourn. 

Al dinn(M- tliry uiet ajijain, al'lcr a five and 
twenty mile walk, undertaken hy I he males at 
Wardle's recommendation, to get rid of tlie effects 
of tlie wine al breakfast; the poor relations had 
hiin in bed all day, with the view of attaining the 
same happy consummation, but, as they had 
been unsuccessful, they stopped there. IVf r. Welter 
kept tlie domestics in a slate of perpetual liilarity; 
and the fat l)oy divided liis time into small 
alternate allolnienis of eating and sleeping. 

The dinner was as hearly an affair as the 
breakfast, and was (piite as noisy, without the 
tears. Then came the dessert and some more 
toasts. Then came the tea and coffee; and then, 
the ball. 

The best silling room at Manor Farm was a 
good, long, dark pannelled room wilh a high 
chimney piece, and a capacious chimney, up 
which you could have driven one of I he new 
patent cabs, wheels and all. Al the upj)er end 

[ «!•' ] 



MR. nCKWlCK'S CIIIUSTMAS 

of the room, seated in a shady bower of holly 
and evergreens, were the two best fiddlers, and 
the only harp, in all Muggleton. In all sorls 
of recesses, and on all kinds of brackets, stood 
massive old silver candlesticks with four branches 
each. The carpet was uj), the candles burnt 
bright, the fire blazed and crackled on the hearth; 
and merry voices and light-hearted laughter rang 
through the room. If juiy of the old English 
yeomen had turned into fairies when they died, 
it was just the place in which they would have 
held their revels. 

If any thing could have added to the interest 
of this agreeable scene, it would have been the 
remarkable fact of Mr. Pickwick's appearing with- 
out his gaiters, for the first time within the memory 
of his oldest friends. 

"You mean to dance?" said Wardle. 

*'Of course I do," replied Mr. Pickwick, "Don't 
you see I am dressed for the purpose?" and Mr. 
Pickwick called attention to his speckled silk 
stockings, and smartly tied pumps. 

[07] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

'* You in silk stockings!" exclaimed Mr. Tup- 
man, jocosely. 

"And why not Sir — why not .^" said Mr. Pick- 
wick, turning warmly upon him. 

**Oh, of course there is no reason why you 
shouldn't wear them," responded Mr. Tupman. 

*' I imagine not Sir — I imagine not," said Mr. 
Pickwick in a very peremptory tone. 

Mr. Tupman had contemplated a laugh, but 
he found it was a serious matter; so he looked 
grave, and said they were a very pretty pat- 
tern. 

"I hope they are," said Mr. Pickwick fixing 
his eyes upon his friend. "You see nothing ex- 
traordinary in these stockings, as stockings, I 
trust Sir.!^" 

" Certainly not — oh certainly not," replied Mr. 
Tupman. He walked away; and Mr. Pickwick's 
countenance resumed its customary benign expres- 
sion. 

"We are all ready, I beheve," said Mr. Pick- 
wick, who was stationed with the old lady at the 

[68] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

top of the dance, and had already made four false 
starts, in his excessive anxiety to commence. 

"Then begin at once," said Wardle. "Now." 

Up struck the two fiddles and the one harp, 
and off went Mr. Pickwick into hands across, 
when there was a general clapping of hands, and 
a cry of "Stop, stop." 

"What's the matter.?" said Mr. Pickwick, who 
was only brought to, by the fiddles and harp 
desisting, and could have been stopped by no 
other earthly power, if the house had been on 
fire. 

"Where's Arabella Allen?" said a dozen voices. 

"And Winkle!" added Mr. Tupman. 

"Here we are!" exclaimed that gentleman, 
emerging with his pretty companion from the 
corner; and, as he did so, it would have been 
hard to tell which was the redder in the face, he 
or the young lady with the black eyes. 

"What an extraordinary thing it is. Winkle," 
said Mr. Pickwick, rather pettishly, "that you 
couldn't have taken your place before." 

[69] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

"Not at all extraordinary," said Mr. Winkle. 

"Well," said Mr. Pickwick, with a very ex- 
pressive smile, as his eyes rested on Arabella, 
"well, I don't know that it was extraordinary, 
either, after all." 

However, there was no time to think more 
about the matter, for the fiddles and harp began 
in real earnest. Away went Mr. Pickwick — 
hands across, down the middle to the very end 
of the room, and half way up the chimney, back 
again to the door — poussette everywhere — loud 
stamp on the ground — ready for the next couple 
— off again — all the figure over once more — 
another stamp to beat out the time — next couple, 
and the next, and the next again — never was 
such going; and at last, after they had reached 
the bottom of the dance, and full fourteen couple 
after the old lady had retired in an exhausted 
state, and the clergyman's wife had been substi- 
tuted in her stead, did that gentleman, when there 
was no demand whatever on his exertions, keep 
perpetually dancing in his place, to keep time to 

[70] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

the music, smiling on his partner all the while 
with a blandness of demeanour which baffles all 
description. 

Long before Mr. Pickwick was weary of danc- 
ing, the newly-married couple had retired from 
the scene. There was a glorious supper down 
stairs, notwithstanding, and a good long sitting 
after it; and when Mr. Pickwick awoke, late the 
next morning, he had a confused recollection of 
having, severally and confidentially, invited some- 
where about five-and-forty people to dine with 
him at the George and Vulture, the very first 
time they came to London; which Mr. Pickwick 
rightly considered a pretty certain indication of 
his having taken something besides exercise, on 
the previous night. 

"And so your family has games in the kitchen 
to-night, my dear, has they.^" inquired Sam of 
Emma. 

"Yes, Mr. Weller," replied Emma; "we always 
have on Christmas eve. Master wouldn't neglect 
to keep it up on any account.'"' 

[71] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

"Your master's a wery pretty notion of keepin' 
anythin' up, my dear," said Mr. Weller; "I never 
see such a sensible sort of man as he is, or such 
a reg'lar gen'l'm'n." 

"Oh, that he is!" said the fat boy, joining in the 
conversation; "don't he breed nice pork!" and 
the fat youth gave a semi-cannibaHc leer at Mr. 
Weller, as he thought of the roast legs and 
gravy. 

"Oh, you've woke up, at last, have you?" said 
Sam. 

The fat boy nodded. 

"I'll tell you what it is, young boa constructer,'* 
said Mr. Weller, impressively, "if you don't sleep 
a little less, and exercise a little more, ven you 
comes to be a man you'll lay yourself open to the 
same sort o' personal inconwenience as was in- 
flicted on the old gen'lm'n as wore the pig-tail." 

"What did they do to him.?" inquired the fat 
boy, in a faltering voice. 

"I'm a goin' to tell you," replied Mr. Weller; 
"he was one o' the largest patterns as was ever 

[72] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

turned out — reg'lar fat man, as hadn't caught a 
glimpse of his own shoes for five-and-forty years." 

"Lor!" exclaimed Emma. 

"No, that he hadn't, my dear," said Mr. Weller, 
"and if you'd put an exact model of his own legs 
on the dinin' table afore him, he wouldn't ha* 
known 'em. Well, he always walks to his office 
with a wery handsome gold watch-chain hanging 
out, about a foot and a half; and a gold watch in 
his fob pocket as was worth — I'm afraid to say 
how much, but as much as a watch can be — a 
large, heavy, round manafacter, as stout for a 
watch, as he was for a man, and with a big face 
in proportion. * You'd better not carry that 'ere 
watch,' says the old gen'l'm'n's friends, * you'll 
be robbed on it,' says they. * Shall I.?' says he. 
*Yes, will you,' says they. *Vell,' says he, *I 
should like to see the thief as could get this here 
watch out, for I'm blessed if / ever can; it's such 
a tight fit,' says he, ' and venever I vants to know 
what's o'clock, I'm obliged to stare into the 
bakers' shops,' he says. Well, then he laughs as 

[73] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

hearty as if he was a goin' to pieces, and out he 
walks agin' with his powdered head and pig-tail, 
and rolls down the Strand vith the chain hangin' 
out furder than ever, and the great round watch 
almost bustin' through his grey kersey smalls. 
There warn't a pickpocket in all London as didn't 
take a pull at that chain, but the chain 'ud never 
break, and the watch 'ud never come out, so they 
soon got tired o' dragging such a heavy old 
gen'l'm'n along the pavement, and he'd go home 
and laugh till the pig-tail wibrated like the pen- 
derlum of a Dutch clock. At last, one day the 
old gen'l'm'n was a roUin' along, and he sees a 
pickpocket as he know'd by sight, a-comin' up, 
arm in arm vith a little boy vith a wery large 
head. * Here's a game,' says the old gen'l'm'n to 
himself, 'they're a-goin' to have another try, but 
it won't do.' So he begins a chucklin' wery 
hearty, ven, all of a sudden, the little boy leaves 
hold of the pickpocket's arm, and rushes head- 
foremost straight into the old gen'l'm'n's stom- 
ach, and for a moment doubled him right up vith 

[74] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

the pain. 'Murder!' says the old gen'l'm'n. 'AH 
right. Sir,' says the pickpocket, a whisperin' in 
his ear. And ven he come straight agin', the 
watch and chain was gone, and what's worse 
than that, the old gen'l'm'n's digestion was all 
wrong ever artervards, to the wery last day of 
his life; so just you look about you, young feller, 
and take care you don't get too fat." 

As Mr. Weller concluded this moral tale, with 
which the fat boy appeared much affected, they 
all three wended their way to the large kitchen, 
in which the family were by this time assembled, 
according to annual custom on Christmas eve, 
observed by old Wardle's forefathers from time 
immemorial. 

From the centre of the ceiling of this kitchen, 
old Wardle had just suspended with his own 
hands a huge branch of mistletoe, and this same 
branch of mistletoe instantaneously gave rise to a 
scene of general and most delightful struggling 
and confusion; in the midst of which Mr. Pickwick 
with a gallantry which would have done honour 

[75] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

to a descendant of Lady Tollimglower herself, 
took the old lady by the hand, led her beneath 
the mystic branch, and saluted her in all courtesy 
and decorum. The old lady submitted to this 
piece of practical politeness with all the dignity 
which befitted so important and serious a solem- 
nity, but the younger ladies not being so thor- 
oughly imbued with a superstitious veneration of 
the custom, or imagining that the value of a salute 
is very much enhanced if it cost a little trouble 
to obtain it, screamed and struggled, and ran into 
corners, and threatened and remonstrated, and 
did every thing but leave the room, until some of 
the less adventurous gentlemen were on the point 
of desisting, when they all at once found it useless 
to resist any longer, and submitted to be kissed 
with a good grace. Mr. Winkle kissed the young 
lady with the black eyes, and Mr. Snodgrass 
kissed Emily; and Mr. Weller, not being particu- 
lar about the form of being under the mistletoe, 
kissed Emma and the other female servants, just 
as he caught them. As to the poor relations, they 

[76] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

kissed everybody, not even excepting the plainer 
portion of the young-lady visitors, who, in their 
excessive confusion, ran right under the mistletoe, 
directly it was hung up, without knowing it! 
Wardle stood with his back to the fire, surveying 
the whole scene, with the utmost satisfaction; and 
the fat boy took the opportunity of appropriating 
to his own use, and summarily devouring, a par- 
ticularly fine mince pie, that had been carefully 
put by, for somebody else. 

Now the screaming had subsided, and faces 
were in a glow and curls in a tangle, and Mr. 
Pickwick, after kissing the old lady as before- 
mentioned, was standing under the mistletoe, 
looking with a very pleased countenance on all 
that was passing around him, when the young 
lady with the black eyes, after a little whispering 
with the other young ladies, made a sudden dart 
forward, and, putting her arm round Mr. Pick- 
wick's neck, saluted him affectionately on the 
left cheek; and before Mr. Pickwick distinctly 
knew what was the matter, he was surrounded 

[77] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

by the whole body, and kissed by every one of 
them. 

It was a pleasant thing to see Mr. Pickwick in 
the centre of the group, now pulled this way, and 
then that, and first kissed on the chin and then 
on the nose, and then on the spectacles, and to 
hear the peals of laughter which were raised on 
every side; but it was a still more pleasant thing 
to see Mr. Pickwick, blinded shortly afterwards, 
with a silk-handkerchief, falling up against the 
wall, and scrambling into corners, and going 
through all the mysteries of blind-man's buff, 
with the utmost relish for the game, until at last 
he caught one of the poor relations; and then had 
to evade the blind-man himself, which he did with 
a nimbleness and agility that elicited the admira- 
tion and applause of all beholders. The poor 
relations caught just the people whom they thought 
would like it; and when the game flagged, got 
caught themselves. When they were all tired of 
blind-man's buff, there was a great game at snap- 
dragon, and when fingers enough were burned 

[78] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

with that, and all the raisins gone, they sat down 
by the huge fire of blazing logs to a substantial 
supper, and a mighty bowl or wassail, something 
smaller than an ordinary wash-house copper, in 
which the hot apples were hissing and bubbling 
with a rich look, and a jolly sound, that were 
perfectly irresistible. 

"This," said Mr. Pickwick, looking round him, 
"this is, indeed, comfort." 

"Our invariable custom," replied Mr, Wardle. 
" Everybody sits down with us on Christmas eve, as 
you see them now — servants and all; and here we 
wait till the clock strikes twelve, to usher Christ- 
mas in, and wile away the time with forfeits and 
old stories. Trundle, my boy, rake up the fire." 

Up flew the bright sparks in myriads as the 
logs were stirred, and the deep red blaze sent 
forth a rich glow, that penetrated into the furthest 
corner of the room, and cast its cheerful tint on 
every face. 

" Come," said Wardle, " a song — a Christmas 
song. I'll give you one, in default of a better." 

[79] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

"Bravo," said Mr. Pickwick. 

"Fill up," cried Wardle. "It will be two hours 
good, before you see the bottom of the bowl 
through the deep rich colour of the wassail; fill 
up all round, and now for the song." 

Thus saying, the merry old gentleman, in a 
good, round, sturdy voice, commenced without 
more ado — 

A CHRISTMAS CAROL 

I care not for Spring; on his fickle wing 

Let the blossoms and buds be borne: 

He woos them amain with his treacherous rain, 

And he scatters them ere the morn. 

An inconstant elf, he knows not himself. 

Or his own changing mind an hour, 

He'll smile in your face, and, with wry grimace. 

He'll wither your youngest flower. 

Let the Summer sun to his bright home run. 

He shall never be sought by me; 

When he's dimmed by a cloud I can laugh aloud. 

And care not how sulky he be; 

For his darling child is the madness wild 

That sports in fierce fever's train ; 

And when love is too strong, it don't last long. 

As many have found to their pain. 

[80] 





utinysoni3iri)lloiil,forfil)ii$lnittSsliiiil, 
lp|)fttt,tl)(!tnic,anl)t|pl)fllli; '^sm 
1 bunippr) iiTiiin,(iiiii mill) mifllt miii idin i 

^m \\m (\]m fortt)is ^m\m m. 

I)i'1lii$ifl-|]iniiniiiitl)flinpnyiiin 

S|iilsl|iillglfl()iifii lis joyous l)ettit. 

Anil m 11 lii'fp l]iiii up luiilc Herft lite or sup, 

luiiiiifi'llfln)sl)ipjioo(\nii''(liiort. 




MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

A mild harvest night, by the tranquil Hght 

Of the modest and gentle moon, 

Has a far sweeter sheen for me, I ween. 

Than the broad and unblushing noon. 

But every leaf awakens my grief. 

As it lieth beneath the tree; 

So let Autumn air be never so fair, 

It by no means agrees with me. 

But my song I troll out, for Christmas stout. 

The hearty, the true, and the bold; 

A bumper I drain, and with might and main 

Give three cheers for this Christmas old. 

We'll usher him in with a merry din 

That shall gladden his joyous heart. 

And we'll keep him up while there's bite or sup, 

And in fellowship good, we'll part. 

In his fine honest pride, he scorns to hide 

One jot of his hard-weather scars; 

They're no disgrace, for there's much the same trace 

On the cheeks of our bravest tars. 

Then again I sing 'till the roof doth ring. 

And it echoes from wall to wall — 

To the stout old wight, fair welcome to-night, 

As the King of the Seasons all! 

This song was tumultuously applauded, for 
friends and dependents make a capital audience; 
and the poor relations especially were in perfect 

[83] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

extasies of rapture. Again was the fire replen- 
ished, and again went the wassail round. 

"How it snows!" said one of the men, in a 
low tone. 

"Snows, does it?" said Wardle. 

"Rough, cold night. Sir," replied the man; 
"and there's a wind got up that drifts it across 
the jfields, in a thick white cloud." 

"What does Jem say?" inquired the old lady. 
"There ain't any thing the matter, is there?" 

"No, no, mother," replied Wardle; "he says 
there's a snow-drift, and a wind that's piercing 
cold. I should know that, by the way it rumbles 
in the chimney." 

"Ah!" said the old lady, "there was just such 
a wind, and just such a fall of snow, a good 
many years back, I recollect — just five years 
before your poor father died. It was a Christ- 
mas eve, too; and I remember that on that very 
night he told us the story about the goblins that 
carried away old Gabriel Grub." 

"The stoiy about what?" said Mr. Pickwick. 
[84] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

*'Oh, nothing — nothing," repHed Wardle. 
"About an old sexton, that the good people 
down here suppose to have been carried away 
by goblins." 

"Suppose!" ejaculated the old lady. "Is there 
any body hardy enough to disbelieve it.? Sup- 
pose! Haven't you heard ever since you were a 
child, that he was carried away by the goblins, 
and don't you know he was.?" 

"Very well, mother, he was, if you like," said 
Wardle, laughing. "He was carried away by 
goblins, Pickwick; and there's an end of the 
matter." 

"No, no," said Mr. Pickwick, "not an end of 
it, I assure you; for I must hear how, and why, 
and all about it." 

Wardle smiled, as every head was bent for- 
ward to hear; and filling out the wassail with no 
stinted hand, nodded a health to Mr. Pickwick* 
and began as follows — 

But bless our editorial heart, what a long 
chapter we have been betrayed into! We had 

[85] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

quite forgotten all such petty restrictions as 
chapters, we solemnly declare. So here goes, 
to give the goblin a fair start in a new one. A 
clear stage and no favour for the goblins, ladies 
and gentlemen, if you please. 



[86] 




CHAPTER II 

THE STORY OF TIIIO GOBLINS WHO STOLE A SEXTON 

*' TN an old abbey town, down in this part of the 
A country, a lonjr, long wliilc ago — ho long, 
that the story must be a true one, because our 
great grandfatliers ini})lic'itly believed it — there 
officiated as sexton and grave-digger in the church- 
yard, one Gabriel Grub. It by no means follows 
that because a man is a sexton, and constantly 
surrounded by emblems of mortality, therefore 
he should be a morose and melancholy man; 
your undertakers an; the merriest fellows in the 
world, and I once had the honour of being on 
intimate terms with a mute, who in private life, 

[87] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 



and off duty, was as comical and jocose a little 
fellow as ever chirped out a devil-may-care song, 
without a hitch in his memory, or drained off a 
good stiff glass of grog without stopping for 
breath. But notwithstanding these precedents to 
the contrary, Gabriel Grub was an ill-conditioned, 
cross-grained, surly fellow — a mo- /c^V^ rose 
and lonely man, who consorted y\j^^^ with 
nobody but himself, and y^^^ ^^ old 
wicker bottle which y^^ fitted into his 
large deep waist- y^^ ^^^^ pocket; and 
who eyed each /^r ^^^rry face as it passed 

him by, J^^'=^J' ^'\\h. such a deep scowl 
of ^y^ <^f^ ^^ malice and ill-humour, 
as ^^.^^^ ^y^ it was difficult to meet 
without feeling something the worse for. 

**A little before twilight one Christmas Eve, 
Gabriel shouldered his spade, lighted his lantern, 
and betook himself towards the old church- 
yard, for he had got a grave to finish by next 
morning, and feeling very low he thought it 
might raise his spirits perhaps, if he went on 

[88] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

with his work at once. As he wended his way, 
up the ancient street, he saw the cheerful Hght 
of the blazing fires gleam through the old case- 
ments, and heard the loud laugh and the cheer- 
ful shouts of those who were assembled around 
them; he marked the bustling preparations for 
next day's good cheer, and smelt the numerous 
savoury odours consequent thereupon, as they 
steamed up from the kitchen windows in clouds. 
All this was gall and wormwood to the heart of 
Gabriel Grub; and as groups of children, bounded 
out of the houses, tripped across the road, and 
were met, before they could knock at the oppo- 
site door, by half a dozen curly-headed little 
rascals who crowded round them as they flocked 
up stairs to spend the evening in their Christmas 
games, Gabriel smiled grimly, and clutched the 
handle of his spade with a firmer grasp, as he 
thought of measles, scarlet-fever, thrush, hoop- 
ing-cough, and a good many other sources of 
consolation beside. 

"In this happy frame of mind, Gabriel strode 
[89] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

along, returning a short, sullen growl to the 
good-humoured greetings of such of his neigh- 
bours as now and then passed him, until he turned 
into the dark lane which led to the church-yard. 
Now Gabriel had been looking forward to reach- 
ing the dark lane, because it was, generally speak- 
ing, a nice gloomy mournful place, into which 
the towns-people did not much care to go, ex- 
cept in broad daylight, and when the sun was 
shining; consequently he was not a little indig- 
nant to hear a young urchin roaring out some 
jolly song about a merry Christmas, in this very 
sanctuary, which had been called Coffin Lane 
ever since the days of the old abbey, and the 
time of the shaven-headed monks. As Gabriel 
walked on, and the voice drew nearer, he found 
it proceeded from a small boy, who was hurry- 
ing along, to join one of the little parties in the 
old street, and who, partly to keep himself com- 
pany, and partly to prepare himself for the occa- 
sion, was shouting out the song at the highest 
pitch of his lungs. So Gabriel waited till the 

[90] 



1 




Ir 





Zl 



I 








.^ 



V- 



V 

5 

Sin 



I 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

boy came up, and then dodged him into a corner, 
and rapped him over the head with his lantern 
five or six times, just to teach him to modulate 
his voice. And as the boy hurried away with 
his hand to his head, singing quite a different 
sort of tune, Gabriel Grub chuckled very heartily 
to himself, and entered the church-yard, locking 
the gate behind him. 

"He took off his coat, set down his lantern, 
and getting into the unfinished grave, worked at 
it for an hour or so, with right good will. But 
the earth was hardened with the frost, and it 
was no very easy matter to break it up, and 
shovel it out; and although there was a moon, 
it was a very young one, and shed little light 
upon the grave, which was in the shadow of 
the church. At any other time, these obstacles 
would have made Gabriel Grub very moody and 
miserable, but he was so well pleased with 
having stopped the small boy's singing, that he 
took little heed of the scanty progress he had 
made, and looked down into the grave when 

[93] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

he had finished work for the night, with grim 
satisfaction, murmuring as he gathered up his 
things — 

Brave lodgings for one, brave lodgings for one, 
A few feet of cold earth, when life is done; 
A stone at the head, a stone at the feet, 
A rich, juicy meal for the worms to eat; 
Rank grass over head, and damp clay around. 
Brave lodgings for one, these, in holy ground! 

"'Ho! ho!' laughed Gabriel Grub, as he sat 
himself down on a flat tombstone which was a 
favourite resting place of his; and drew forth 
his wicker bottle. ' A coffin at Christmas — a 
Christmas Box. Ho! ho! ho!' 

*"Ho! ho! ho!' repeated a voice which sounded 
close behind him. 

"Gabriel paused in some alarm, in the act of 
raising the wicker bottle to his lips, and looked 
round. The bottom of the oldest grave about 
him, was not more still and quiet, than the church- 
yard in the pale moonlight. The cold hoar 
frost glistened on the tombstones, and sparkled 
like rows of gems among the stone carvings of 

[94] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

the old church. The snow lay hard and crisp 
upon the ground, and spread over the thickly- 
strewn mounds of earth, so white and smooth a 
cover, that it seemed as if corpses lay there, hid- 
den only by their winding sheets. Not the 
faintest rustle broke the profound tranquillity of 
the solemn scene. Sound itself appeared to be 
frozen up, all was so cold and still. 

'**It was the echoes,' said Gabriel Grub, rais- 
ing the bottle to his lips again. 

'**It was not," said a deep voice. 

"Gabriel started up, and stood rooted to the 
spot with astonishment and terror; for his eyes 
rested on a form which made his blood run 
cold. 

*' Seated on an upright tombstone, close to 
him, was a strange unearthly figure, whom Ga- 
briel felt at once, was no being of this world. 
His long fantastic legs which might have reached 
the ground, were cocked up, and crossed after a 
quaint, fantastic fashion; his sinewy arms were 
bare, and his hands rested on his knees. On his 

[95] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

short round body he wore a close covering, orna- 
mented with small slashes; and a short cloak 
dangled at his back; the collar was cut into curi- 
ous peaks, which served the goblin in lieu of 
ruff or neckerchief; and his shoes curled up at 
the toes into long points. On his head he wore 
a broad-brimmed sugar loaf hat, garnished with 
a single feather. The hat was covered with the 
white frost, and the goblin looked as if he had 
sat on the same tombstone very comfortably, for 
two or three hundred years. He was sitting per- 
fectly still; his tongue was put out, as if in de- 
rision; and he was grinning at Gabriel Grub with 
such a grin as only a goblin could call up. 

*"It was not the echoes,' said the goblin. 

"Gabriel Grub was paralysed, and could make 
no reply. 

'"What do you do here on Christmas eve.^' 
said the goblin, sternly. 

"'I came to dig a grave Sir,' stammered 
Gabriel Grub. 

"'What man wanders among graves and 
[96] 




,Skmkl 




(hihricl sftirfciJ iip, and stood rooh'd to the spot ivlth (idoimliiiicnl and terror 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

church-yards on such a night as this ? ' said the 
gobUn. 

"'Gabriel Grub! Gabriel Grub!' screamed a 
wild chorus of voices that seemed to fill the 
church-yard. Gabriel looked fearfully round — 
nothing was to be seen. 

'"What have you got in that bottle.?' said the 
goblin. 

'"Hollands, Sir,' replied the sexton, trembling 
more than ever; for he had bought it of the 
smugglers, and he thought that perhaps his 
questioner might be in the excise department of 
the goblins. 

'"Who drinks Hollands alone, and in a church- 
yard, on such a night as this.?' said the goblin. 

'"Gabriel Grub! Gabriel Grub!' exclaimed 
the wild voices again. 

"The goblin leered maliciously at the terrified 
sexton, and then raising his voice, exclaimed — 

'"And who, then, is our fair and lawful 
prize ? ' 

"To this inquiry the invisible chorus replied, 
[99] 

L OF C. 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

in a strain that sounded like the voices of many 
choristers singing to the mighty swell of the old 
church organ — a strain that seemed borne to the 
sexton's ears upon a gentle wind, and to die away 
as its soft breath passed onward — but the burden 
of the reply was still the same, 'Gabriel Grub! 
Gabriel Grub!' 

"The goblin grinned a broader grin than before, 
as he said, 'Well, Gabriel, what do you say to 
this?' 

"The sexton gasped for breath. 

"'What do you think of this, Gabriel.^' said 
the goblin, kicking up his feet in the air on either 
side the tombstone, and looking at the turned-up 
points with as much complacency as if he had 
been contemplating the most fashionable pair of 
Wellingtons in all Bond Street. 

'"It's — it's — very curious. Sir,' replied the 
sexton, half dead with fright, 'very curious, and 
very pretty, but I think I'll go back and finish my 
work, Sir, if you please.' 

"'Work!' said the goblin, 'what work.?' 
[100] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

"'The grave, Sir, making the grave,' stam- 
mered the sexton. 

***Oh, the grave, eh.?' said the goblin, *who 
makes graves at a time when all other men are 
merry, and takes a pleasure in it.?' 

"Again the mysterious voices replied, * Gabriel 
Grub! Gabriel Grub!' 

"*I'm afraid my friends want you, Gabriel,' 
said the goblin, thrusting his tongue further into 
his cheek than ever — and a most astonishing 
tongue it was — * I'm afraid my friends want you, 
Gabriel,' said the goblin. 

"* Under favour. Sir,' replied the horror-struck 
sexton, 'I don't think they can. Sir; they don't 
know me, Sir, I don't think the gentlemen have 
ever seen me. Sir.' 

"'Oh yes they have,' repHed the goblin; *we 
know the man with the sulky face and the grim 
scowl, that came down the street to-night, throw- 
ing his evil looks at the children, and grasp- 
ing his burying spade the tighter. We know 
the man that struck the boy in the envious 

[101] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

malice of his heart, because the boy could be 
merry, and he could not. We know him, we 
know him.' 

"Here the goblin gave a loud shrill laugh, that 
the echoes returned twenty-fold, and throwing his 
legs up in the air, stood upon his head, or rather 
upon the very point of his sugar-loaf hat, on the 
narrow edge of tlie tombstone, from whence he 
threw a summerset with extraordinary agility, 
right to the sexton's feet, at which he planted 
himself in the attitude in which tailors generally ^ 
sit upon the shop-board. 

" * I — I — am afraid I must leave you. Sir,' 
said the sexton, making an effort to move. 

'"Leave us!' said the goblin, 'Gabriel Grub 
going to leave us. Ho! ho! ho!' 

"As the goblin laughed, the sexton observed 
for one instanl a brilliant illumination within the 
windows of the church, as if the whole building 
were lighted up; it disappeared, the organ pealed 
forth a lively air, and whole troops of goblins, 
the very counterpart of the first one, poured into 

[102] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 



the chuich-yaixl, and began playing at leap-frog 
with the tombstones, never stopping for an instant 
to take breath, but overing the highest among 
them, one after the other, with the most marvel- 
lous dexterity. The first goblin was a most 
astonishing leaper, and 
none of the others could 
come near him; even in 
the extremity of his terror 
the sexton could not help 
observing, that while his 
friends were content to 
leap over the common- 
sized gravestones, the first 
one took the family vaults, 
iron railings and all, with 
as much ease as if they 
had been so many street posts. 

"At last the game reached to a most exciting 
pitch; the organ played quicker and quicker, and 
the goblins leaped faster and faster, coiling them- 
selves up, rolling head over heels upon the ground, 

[ 103 ] 




MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

and bounding over the tombstones like foot-balls. 
The sexton's brain whirled round with the rapid- 
ity of the motion he beheld, and his legs reeled 
beneath him, as the spirits flew before his eyes, 
when the goblin king suddenly darting towards 
him, laid his hand upon his collar, and sank with 
him through the earth. 

*'When Gabriel Grub had had time to fetch 
his breath, which the rapidity of his descent had 
for the moment taken away, he found himself in 
what appeared to be a large cavern, surrounded 
on all sides by crowds of goblins, ugly and grim; 
in the centre of the room, on an elevated seat, 
was stationed his friend of the church-yard; and 
close beside him stood Gabriel Grub himself, 
without the power of motion. 

"*Cold to-night,' said the king of the gobhns, 
'very cold. A glass of something warm, here.' 

"At this command, half a dozen officious gob- 
lins, with a perpetual smile upon their faces, 
whom Gabriel Grub imagined to be courtiers, on 
that account, hastily disappeared, and presently 

[104] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

returned with a goblet of liquid fire, which they 
presented to the king. 

*''Ah!' said the goblin, whose cheeks and 
throat were quite transparent, as he tossed down 
the flame, 'This warms one, indeed: bring a 
bumper of the same, for Mr. Grub.' 

"It was in vain for the unfortunate sexton to 
protest that he was not in the habit of taking 
anything warm at night; for one of the gobhns 
held him while another poured the blazing liquid 
down his throat, and the whole assembly screeched 
with laughter as he coughed and choked, and 
wiped away the tears which gushed plentifully 
from his eyes, after swallowing the burning 
draught. 

"'And now,' said the king, fantastically poking 
the taper corner of his sugar-loaf hat into the 
sexton's eye, and thereby occasioning him the 
most exquisite pain — ' And now, show the man 
of misery and gloom a few of the pictures from 
our own great storehouse.' 

"As the gobhn said this, a thick cloud which 
[105] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

obscured the further end of the cavern, rolled 
gradually away, and disclosed, apparently at a 
great distance, a small and scantily furnished, but 
neat and clean apartment. A crowd of little 
children were gathered round a bright fire, cling- 
ing to their mother's gown, and gambolling round 
her chair. The mother occasionally rose, and 
drew aside the window-curtain as if to look for 
some expected object; a frugal meal was ready 
spread upon the table, and an elbow chair was 
placed near the fire. A knock was heard at the 
door: the mother opened it, and the children 
crowded round her, and clapped their hands for 
joy, as their father entered. He was wet and 
weary, and shook the snow from his garments, 
as the children crowded round him, and seizing 
his cloak, hat, stick, and gloves, with busy zeal, 
ran with them from the room. Then as he sat 
down to his meal before the fire, the children 
climbed about his knee, and the mother sat by 
his side, and all seemed happiness and comfort. 
"But a change came upon the view, almost 
[106] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

imperceptibly. The scene was altered to a small 
bed-room, where the fairest and youngest child 
lay dying; the roses had fled from his cheek, and 
the light from his eye; and even as the sexton 
looked upon him with an interest he had never 
felt or known before, he died. His young brothers 
and sisters crowded round his little bed, and 
seized his tiny hand, so cold and heavy; but they 
shrunk back from its touch, and looked with awe 
on his infant face; for calm and tranquil as it 
was, and sleeping in rest and peace as the beau- 
tiful child seemed to be, they saw that he was 
dead, and they knew that he was an angel looking 
down upon, and blessing them, from a bright and 
happy Heaven. 

"Again the light cloud passed across the pic- 
ture, and again the subject changed. The father 
and mother were old and helpless now, and the 
number of those about them was diminished more 
than half; but content and cheerfulness sat on 
every face, and beamed in every eye, as they 
crowded round the fireside, and told and listened 

[107] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 



to old stories of earlier and bygone days. Slowly 
and peacefully the father sank into the grave, and, 
soon after, the sharer of all his cares and troubles 
followed him to a place of rest and peace. The 
few, who yet survived them, knelt by their tomb, 
and watered the green turf which covered it with 
their tears; then rose and turned away, sadly and 
mournfully, but not with bitter cries, or despairing 
lamentations, for they knew that 
they should one day meet again; 
and once more they mixed with 
the busy world, and their con- 
tent and cheerfulness were re- 
stored. The cloud settled upon 
the picture, and concealed it 
from the sexton's view. 
" ' What do you think of that ? ' said the goblin, 
turning his large face towards Gabriel Grub. 

"Gabriel murmured out something about its 
being very pretty, and looked somewhat ashamed, 
as the goblin bent his fiery eyes upon him. 

'" You a miserable man!' said the goblin, in a 
[108] 




MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

tone of excessive contempt. ' You ! ' He appeared 
disposed to add more, but indignation choked his 
utterance, so he Hfted up one of his very pHable 
legs, and flourishing it above his head a Httle, to 
insure his aid, administered a good sound kick 
to Gabriel Grub; immediately after which, all the 
goblins in waiting crowded round the wretched 
sexton, and kicked him without mercy, according 
to the established and invariable custom of cour- 
tiers upon earth, who kick whom royalty kicks, 
and hug whom royalty hugs. 

"'Show him some more,' said the king of the 
goblins. 

"At these words the cloud was again dispelled, 
and a rich and beautiful landscape was disclosed 
to view — there is just such another to this day, 
within half a mile of the old abbey town. The 
sun shone from out the clear blue sky, the water 
sparkled beneath his rays, and the trees looked 
greener, and the flowers more gay, beneath his 
cheering influence. The water rippled on, with 
a pleasant sound, the trees rustled in the light 

[109] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

wind that murmured among their leaves, the 
birds sang upon the boughs, and the lark carolled 
on high, her welcome to the morning. Yes, it 
was morning, the bright, balmy morning of sum- 
mer; the minutest leaf, the smallest blade of grass, 
was instinct with life. The ant crept forth to her 
daily toil, the butterfly fluttered and basked in 
the warm rays of the sun; myriads of insects 
spread their transparent wings, and revelled in 
their brief but happy existence. Man walked 
forth, elated with the scene; and all was brightness 
and splendour. 

"*You a miserable man!' said the king of the 
goblins, in a more contemptuous tone than before. 
And again the king of the goblins gave his leg a 
flourish; again it descended on the shoulders of 
the sexton; and again the attendant goblins 
imitated the example of their chief. 

*'Many a time the cloud went and came, and 
many a lesson it taught to Gabriel Grub, who 
although his shoulders smarted with pain from 
the frequent applications of the goblin's feet 

[110] 



§: 



i 

r 



•^ 






s. 




MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

thereunto, looked on with an interest which 
nothing could diminish. He saw that men who 
worked hard, and earned their scanty bread with 
lives of labour, were cheerful and happy; and 
that to the most ignorant, the sweet face of nature 
was a never-failing source of cheerfulness and joy. 
He saw those who had been delicately nurtured, 
and tenderly brought up, cheerful under priva- 
tions, and superior to suffering, that would have 
crushed many of a rougher grain, because they 
bore within their own bosoms the materials of 
happiness, contentment, and peace. He saw that 
women, the tenderest and most fragile of all God's 
creatures, were the oftenest superior to sorrow, 
adversity, and distress; and he saw that it was 
because they bore in their own hearts an inex- 
haustible wellspring of affection and devotedness. 
Above all, he saw that men like himself, who 
snarled at the mirth and cheerfulness of others, 
were the foulest weeds on the fair surface of the 
earth; and setting all the good of the world against 
the evil, he came to the conclusion that it was a 

[113] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

very decent and respectable sort of world after 
all. No sooner had he formed it, than the cloud 
which had closed over the last picture, seemed to 
settle on his senses, and lull him to repose. One 
by one, the goblins faded from his sight, and as 
the last one disappeared, he sunk to sleep. 

"The day had broken when Gabriel Grub 
awoke, and found himself lying at full length on 
the flat gravestone in the church-yard, with the 
wicker bottle lying empty by his side, and his 
coat, spade, and lantern, all well whitened by the 
last night's frost, scattered on the ground. The 
stone on which he had first seen the goblin seated, 
stood bolt upright before him, and the grave at 
which he had worked, the night before, was not 
far off. At first he began to doubt the reality of 
his adventures, but the acute pain in his shoulders 
when he attempted to rise, assured him that the 
kicking of the goblins was certainly not ideal. 
He was staggered again, by observing no traces 
of footsteps in the snow on which the goblins had 
played at leap-frog with the gravestones, but he 

[114] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

speedily accounted for this circumstance when he 
remembered that being spirits, they would leave 
no visible impression behind them. So Gabriel 
Grub got on his feet as well as he could, for the 
pain in his back; and brushing the frost off his 
coat, put it on, and turned his face towards the 
town. 

"But he was an altered man, and he could not 
bear the thought of returning to a place where 
his repentance would be scoffed at, and his refor- 
mation disbelieved. He hesitated for a few mo- 
ments; and then turned away to wander where he 
might, and seek his bread elsewhere. 

"The lantern, the spade, and the wicker bottle, 
were found that day in the church-yard. There 
were a great many speculations about the sex- 
ton's fate at first, but it was speedily determined 
that he had been carried away by the goblins; 
and there were not wanting some very credible 
witnesses who had distinctly seen him whisked 
through the air on the back of a chestnut horse 
blind of one eye, with the hind quarters of a lion, 

[115] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

and the tail of a bear. At length all this was 
devoutly believed; and the new sexton used to 
exhibit to the curious for a trifling emolument, a 
good-sized piece of the church weathercock which 
had been accidentally kicked off by the aforesaid 
horse in his aerial flight, and picked up by him- 
self in the church-yard, a year or two afterwards. 
"Unfortunately these stories were somewhat 
disturbed by the unlooked-for reappearance of 
Gabriel Grub himself, some ten years afterwards, 
a ragged, contented, rheumatic old man. He told 
his story to the clergyman, and also to the mayor; 
and in course of time it began to be received 
as a matter of history, in which form it has 
continued down to this very day. The believers 
in the weathercock tale, having misplaced their 
confidence once, were not easily prevailed upon 
to part with it again, so they looked as wise as 
they could, shrugged their shoulders, touched 
their foreheads, and murmured something about 
Gabriel Grub's having drunk all the Hollands, 
and then fallen asleep on the flat tombstone; and 

[116] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

they affected to explain what he supposed he had 
witnessed in the goblin's cavern, by saying that 
he had seen the world, and grown wiser. But 
this opinion, which was by no means a popular 
one at any time, gradually died off; and be the 
matter how it may, as Gabriel Grub was afflicted 
with rheumatism to the end of his days, this 
story has at least one moral, if it teach no better 
one — and that is, that if a man turns sulky and 
drinks by himself at Christmas time, he may 
make up his mind to be not a bit the better for it, 
let the spirits be ever so good, or let them be 
even as many degrees beyond proof, as those 
which Gabriel Grub saw, in the goblin's cavern." 



[117] 



CHAPTER III 

HOW THE PICKWICKIANS MADE AND CULTIVATED 
THE ACQUAINTANCE OF A COUPLE OF NICE 
YOUNG MEN BELONGING TO ONE OF THE 
LIBERAL professions; HOW THEY DISPORTED 
THEMSELVES ON THE ICE; AND HOW THEIR 
VISIT CAME TO A CONCLUSION. 

WELL, Sam," said Mr. Pickwick as that 
favoured servitor entered his bed-cham- 
ber with his warm water, on the morning of 
Christmas Day, "Still frosty?" 

"Water in the wash-hand basin 's a mask o' 
ice. Sir," responded Sam. 

"Severe weather, Sam," observed Mr. Pick- 
wick. 

"Fine time for them as is well wropped up, as 
the Polar Bear said to himself, ven he was prac- 
tising his skaiting," replied Mr. Weller. 

" I shall be down in a quarter of an hour, Sam," 
said Mr. Pickwick, untying his night-cap. 

[118] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

"Wery good, Sir," replied Sam. "There's a 
couple o' Sawbones down stairs." 

"A couple of what!" exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, 
sitting up in bed. 

**A couple o' Sawbones," said Sam. 

"What's a Sawbones.?" inquired Mr. Pick- 
wick, not quite certain whether it was a live ani- 
mal, or something to eat. 

"What! don't you know what a Sawbones is. 
Sir.?" inquired Mr. Weller; "I thought every 
body know'd as a Sawbones was a Surgeon." 

"Oh, a Surgeon, eh.?" said Mr. Pickwick with 
a smile. 

"Just that Sir," replied Sam. "These here 
ones as is below, though, ain't reg'lar thorough- 
bred Sawbones; they're only in trainin'." 

"In other words they're Medical Students, I 
suppose.?" said Mr. Pickwick. 

Sam Weller nodded assent. 

"I am glad of it," said Mr. Pickwick, casting 
his nightcap energetically on the counterpane, 
"They are fine fellows; very fine fellows, with 

[119] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

judgments matured by observation and reflection; 
and tastes refined by reading and study. I am 
very glad of it." 

"They're a smokin' cigars by the kitchen fire," 
said Sam. 

"Ah!" observed Mr. Pickwick, rubbing his 
hands, "overflowing with kindly feelings and 
animal spirits. Just what I like to see!" 

"And one on 'em," said Sam, not noticing his 
master's interruption, "one on 'em 's got his 
legs on the table, and is a drinkin' brandy neat, 
vile the tother one — him in the barnacles — 
has got a barrel o' oysters atween his knees, vich 
he's a openin' like steam, and as fast as he eats 
'em, he takes a aim vith the shells at young dropsy, 
who's a settin' down fast asleep, in the chimbley 
corner." 

"Eccentricities of genius, Sam," said Mr. Pick- 
wick. "You may retire." 

Sam did retire accordingly; and Mr. Pickwick, 
at the expiration of the quarter of an hour, went 
down to breakfast. 

[120] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 



"Here he is at last," said old Wardle. "Pick- 
wick, this is Miss Allen's brother, Mr. Benjamin 
Allen — Ben we call him, and so may you if you 
like. This gentleman is his very particular friend, 
Mr. — " 

"Mr. Bob Sawyer," interposed Mr. Benjamin 
Allen, whereupon Mr. 
Bob Sawyer and Mr. 
Benjamin Allen 
laughed in concert. 

Mr. Pickwick 
bowed to Bob Saw- 
yer, and Bob Sawyer 
bowed to Mr. Pick- 
wick; Bob and his 
very particular friend 
then applied themselves most assiduously to the 
eatables before them; and Mr. Pickwick had an 
opportunity of glancing at them both. 

Mr. Benjamin Allen was a coarse, stout, thick- 
set young man, with black hair cut rather short, 
and a white face cut rather long. He was em- 

[121] 




MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

embellished with spectacles, and wore a white 
neckerchief. Below his single-breasted black sur- 
tout, which was buttoned up to his chin, appeared 
the usual number of pepper-and-salt coloured 
legs, terminating in a pair of imperfectly polished 
boots. Although his coat was short in the 
sleeves, it disclosed no vestige of a linen wrist- 
band; and although there was quite enough of 
his face to admit of the encroachment of a shirt 
collar, it was not graced by the smallest ap- 
proach to that appendage. He presented alto- 
gether rather a mildewy appearance, and emitted 
a fragrant odour of full-flavoured Cubas. 

Mr. Bob Sawyer, who was habited in a coarse 
blue coat, which, without being either greatcoat 
or surtout, partook of the nature and qualities 
of both, had about him that sort of slovenly 
smartness, and swaggering gait, which is peculiar 
to young gentlemen who smoke in the streets by 
day, shout and scream in the same by night, call 
waiters by their christian names, and do various 
other acts and deeds of an equally facetious 

[122] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

description. He wore a pair of plaid trousers, and 
a large rough double-breasted waistcoat; and out 
of doors, carried a thick stick with a big top. He 
eschewed gloves, and looked, upon the whole, 
something like a dissipated Robinson Crusoe. 

Such were the two worthies to whom Mr. 
Pickwick was introduced, as he took his seat at 
the breakfast table on Christmas morning. 

"Splendid morning, gentlemen," said Mr. Pick- 
wick. 

Mr. Bob Sawyer slightly nodded his assent to 
the proposition, and asked Mr. Benjamin Allen 
for the mustard. 

"Have you come far this morning, gentlemen.?" 
inquired Mr. Pickwick. 

"Blue Lion at Muggleton," briefly responded 
Mr. Allen. 

"You should have joined us last night," said 
Mr. Pickwick. 

"So we should," replied Bob Sawyer, "but the 
brandy was too good to leave in a hurry: wasn't 
it, Ben.?" 

[123] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

"Certainly," said Mr. Benjamin Allen; "and 
the cigars were not bad, or the pork chops either: 
were they, Bob?" 

"Decidedly not," said Bob. And the par- 
ticular friends resumed their attack upon the 
breakfast, more freely than before, as if the recol- 
lection of last night's supper had imparted a new 
relish to the meal. 

"Peg away. Bob," said Mr, Allen to his com- 
panion, encouragingly. 

"So I do," replied Bob Sawyer. And so, to do 
him justice, he did. 

"Nothing like dissecting, to give one an appe- 
tite," said Mr. Bob Sawyer, looking round the 
table. 

Mr. Pickwick slightly shuddered. 

"By the bye. Bob," said Mr. Allen, "have 
you finished that leg yet.?" 

"Nearly," replied Sawyer, helping himself to 
half a fowl as he spoke. "It's a very muscular 
one for a child's." 

"Is it.?" inquired Mr. Allen, carelessly. 
[124] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

"Very," said Bob Sawyer, with his mouth full. 

"I've put my name down for an arm, at our 
place," said Mr. Allen. "We're clubbing for a 
subject, and the list is nearly full, only we can't 
get hold of any fellow that wants a head. I wish 
you'd take it." 

"No," replied Bob Sawyer; "can't afford ex- 
pensive luxuries." 

"Nonsense!" said Allen. 

"Can't indeed," rejoined Bob Sawyer. "I 
wouldn't mind a brain, but I couldn't stand a 
whole head." 

"Hush, hush, gentlemen, pray," said Mr. 
Pickwick, "I hear the ladies." 

As Mr. Pickwick spoke, the ladies, gallantly 
escorted by Messrs. Snodgrass, Winkle, and Tup- 
man, returned from an early walk. 

"Lor, Ben!" said Arabella, in a tone which 
expressed more surprise than pleasure at the 
sight of her brother. 

"Come to take you home to-morrow," replied 
Benjamin. 

[125] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

Mr. Winkle turned pale. 

"Don't you see Bob Sawyer, Arabella.?" en- 
quired Mr. Benjamin Allen, somewhat reproach- 
fully. Arabella gracefully held out her hand, in 
acknowledgment of Bob Sawyer's presence. A 
thrill of hatred struck to Mr. Winkle's heart, as 
Bob Sawyer inflicted on the proffered hand a 
perceptible squeeze. 

"Ben, dear!" said Arabella, blushing; "have 
— have — you been introduced to Mr. Winkle .?" 

"I have not been, but I shall be very happy to 
be, Arabella," replied her brother gravely. Here 
Mr. Allen bowed grimly to Mr. Winkle, while 
Mr. Winkle and Mr. Bob Sawyer glanced mutual 
distrust out of the corners of their eyes. 

The arrival of the two new visitors, and the 
consequent check upon Mr. Winkle and the young 
lady with the fur round her boots, would in all 
probability have proved a very unpleasant inter- 
ruption to the hilarity of the party, had not the 
cheerfulness of Mr. Pickwick, and the good 
humour of the host, been exerted to the very ut- 

[126] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

most for the common weal. Mr. Winkle gradu- 
ally insinuated himself into the good graces of 
Mr. Benjamin Allen, and even joined in a friendly 
conversation with Mr. Bob Sawyer; who, en- 
livened with the brandy, and the breakfast, and 
the talking, gradually ripened into a state of 
extreme facetiousness, and related with much 
glee an agreeable anecdote, about the removal of 
a tumour on some gentleman's head, which he 
illustrated by means of an oyster-knife and a 
half-quartern loaf, to the great edification of the 
assembled company. Then the whole train went 
to church, where Mr. Benjamin Allen fell fast 
asleep; while Mr. Bob Sawyer abstracted his 
thoughts from worldly matters, by the ingenious 
process of carving his name on the seat of the pew, 
in corpulent letters of about four inches long. 

"Now," said Wardle, after a substantial lunch, 
with the agreeable items of strong-beer and cherry- 
brandy, had been done ample justice to; "what 
say you to an hour on the ice.? We shall have 
plenty of time." 

[127] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

"Capital!" said Mr. Benjamin Allen. 

"Prime!" ejaculated Mr. Bob Sawyer. 

"You skait, of course, Winkle.?" said Wardle. 

"Ye — yes; oh, yes;" replied Mr. Winkle. "I 
— I — am rather out of practice." 

"Oh, do skait, Mr. Winkle," said Arabella. "I 
like to see it so much." 

" Oh, it is so graceful," said another young lady. 

A third young lady said it was elegant, and a 
fourth expressed her opinion that it was "swan- 
like." 

"I should be very happy, I'm sure," said Mr. 
Winkle, reddening; "but I have no skaits." 

This objection was at once overruled. Trundle 
had got a couple of pair, and the fat boy an- 
nounced that there were half-a-dozen more, down 
stairs, whereat Mr. Winkle expressed exquisite 
delight, and looked exquisitely uncomfortable. 

Old Wardle led the way to a pretty large sheet 
of ice; and the fat boy and Mr. Weller, having 
shovelled and swept away the snow which had 
fallen on it during the night, Mr. Bob Sawyer 

[128] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

adjusted his skaits with a dexterity which to Mr. 
Winkle was perfectly marvellous, and described 
circles with his left leg, and cut figures of eight; 
and inscribed upon the ice, without once stopping 
for breath, a great many other pleasant and 
astonishing devices, to the excessive satisfaction 
of Mr. Pickwick, Mr. Tupman, and the ladies; 
which reached a pitch of positive enthusiasm, 
when old Wardle and Benjamin Allen, assisted 
by the aforesaid Bob Sawyer, performed some 
mystic evolutions, which they called a reel. 

All this time, Mr. Winkle, with his face and 
hands blue with the cold, had been forcing; a 
gimlet into the soles of his feet, and putting his 
skaits on, with the points behind, and getting the 
straps into a very complicated and entangled state, 
with the assistance of Mr. Snodgrass, who knew 
rather less about skaits than a Hindoo. At length, 
however, with the assistance of Mr. Weller, the 
unfortunate skaits were firmly screwed and buckled 
on, and Mr. Winkle was raised to his feet. 

"Now, then. Sir," said Sam, in an encouraging 
[129] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

tone; "off vith you, and show 'em how to do 
it." 

"Stop, Sam, stop," said Mr. Winkle, trembling 
violently, and clutching hold of Sam's arms with 
the grasp of a drowning man. "How slippery it 
is, Sam!" 

"Not an uncommon thing upon ice. Sir," 
repHed Mr. Weller. "Hold up. Sir." 

This last observation of Mr. Welter's bore 
reference to a demonstration Mr. Winkle made 
at the instant, of a frantic desire to throw his 
feet in the air, and dash the back of his head on 
the ice. 

"These — these — are very awkward skaits; ain't 
they, Sam.?" inquired Mr. Winkle, staggering. 

"I'm afeerd there's orkard gen'lm'n in 'em, 
Sir," replied Sam. 

"Now, Winkle," cried Mr. Pickwick, quite 
unconscious that there was anything the matter. 
"Come; the ladies are all anxiety." 

"Yes, yes," replied Mr. Winkle, with a ghastly 
smile. "I'm coming." 

[130] 




•^f„>^a_ afl^j:i>-'^^.a:,>- \t ofe'g- 



" How slippery it is, Sam!" 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

"Just a goin' to begin," said Sam, endeavouring 
to disengage himself. "Now, Sir, start off." 

"Stop an instant, Sam," gasped Mr. Winkle, 
clinging most affectionately to Mr. Weller. "I 
find I've got a couple of coats at home, that I 
don't want, Sam. You may have them, Sam." 

"Thank'ee, Sir," replied Mr. Weller. 

"Never mind touching your hat, Sam," said 
Mr. Winkle, hastily. "You needn't take your 
hand away, to do that. I meant to have given 
you five shillings this morning for a Christmas- 
box, Sam. I'll give it you this afternoon, Sam." 

"You're wery good, Sir," replied Mr. Weller. 

"Just hold me at first, Sam; will you.^" said 
Mr. Winkle. " There — that's right. I shall soon 
get in the way of it, Sam. Not too fast, Sam; 
not too fast." 

Mr. Winkle, stooping forward, with his body 
half doubled up, was being assisted over the ice 
by Mr. Weller, in a very singular and un-swan-like 
manner, when Mr. Pickwick most innocently 
shouted from the opposite bank — 

[133] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 



"Sam!" 

"Sir?" said Mr. Weller. 
"Here. I want you." 

"Let go, Sir," said Sam. "Don't you hear the 
governor a callin' } Let go, Sir." 

With a violent effort, 
Mr. Weller disengaged 
himself from the grasp 
of the agonized Pick- 
wickian; and, in so 
doing, administered a 
considerable impetus to 
the unhappy Mr. Winkle. 
With an accuracy which 
no degree of dexterity or 
practice could have in- 
sured, that unfortunate 
gentleman bore swiftly 
down into the centre of 
the reel, at the very moment when Mr. Bob 
Sawyer was performing a flourish of unparalleled 
beauty. Mr. Winkle struck wildly against him, 

[134] 




MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

and with a loud crash they both fell heavily down. 
Mr. Pickwick ran to the spot. Bob Sawyer had 
risen to his feet, but Mr. Winkle was far too wise 
to do anything of the kind in skaits. He was 
seated on the ice, making spasmodic efforts to 
smile; but anguish was depicted on every linea- 
ment of his countenance. 

"Are you hurt.?" inquired Mr. Benjamin Allen, 
with great anxiety. 

*'Not much," said Mr. Winkle, rubbing his 
back very hard. 

"I wish you'd let me bleed you," said Mr. 
Benjamin with great eagerness. 

"No, thank you," replied Mr. Winkle, hurriedly. 

"I really think you had better," said Allen. 

"Thank you," repHed Mr. Winkle; "I'd rather 
not." 

"What do you think, Mr. Pickwick.?" inquired 
Bob Sawyer. 

Mr. Pickwick was excited and indignant. He 
beckoned to Mr. Weller, and said in a stern voice, 
"Take his skaits off." 

[135] 

I 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

"No; but really I had scarcely begun," remon- 
strated Mr. Winkle. 

"Take his skaits off," repeated Mr. Pickwick 
firmly. 

The command was not to be resisted. Mr. 
Winkle allowed Sam to obey it, in silence. 

"Lift him up," said Mr. Pickwick. Sam as- 
sisted him to rise. 

Mr. Pickwick retired a few paces apart from 
the bystanders; and, beckoning his friend to 
approach, fixed a searching look upon him, and 
uttered in a low, but distinct and emphatic tone, 
these remarkable words: 

"You're a humbug. Sir." 

"A what!" said Mr. Winkle, starting. 

"A humbug. Sir. I will speak plainer, if you 
wish it. An impostor. Sir." 

With these words, Mr. Pickwick turned slowly 
on his heel, and rejoined his friends. 

While Mr. Pickwick was delivering himself of 
the sentiment just recorded, Mr. Weller and the 
fat boy, having by their joint endeavours cut out 

[136] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

a slide, were exercising themselves thereupon, 
in a very masterly and brilliant manner. Sam 
Weller, in particular, was displaying that beautiful 
feat of fancy sliding which is currently denom- 
inated "knocking at the cobbler's door," and 
which is achieved by skimming over the ice on 
one foot, and occasionally giving a two-penny 
postman's knock upon it with the other. It was 
a good long slide, and there was something in the 
motion which Mr. Pickwick, who was very cold 
with standing still, could not help envying. 

"It looks a nice warm exercise that, doesn't 
it.?" he enquired of Wardle, when that gentle- 
man was thoroughly out of breath, by reason of 
the indefatigable manner in which he had con- 
verted his legs into a pair of compasses, and 
drawn complicated problems on the ice. 

"Ah, it does, indeed," replied Wardle. "Do 
you slide.?" 

"I used to do so, on the gutters, when I was a 
boy," replied Mr. Pickwick. 

"Try it now," said Wardle. 
[137] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

"Oh, do, please Mr. Pickwick," cried all the 
ladies. 

"I should be very happy to afford you any 
amusement," replied Mr. Pickwick, "but I haven't 
done such a thing these thirty years." 

"Pooh! pooh! nonsense!" said Wardle, drag- 
ging off his skaits with the impetuosity which 
characterised all his proceedings. "Here; I'll 
keep you company; come along." And away 
went the good-tempered old fellow down the 
slide, with a rapidity which came very close 
upon Mr. Weller, and beat the fat boy all to 
nothing. 

Mr. Pickwick paused, considered, pulled off 
his gloves and put them in his hat, took two or 
three short runs, baulked himself as often, and 
at last took another run and went slowly and 
gravely down the slide, with his feet about a 
yard and a quarter apart, amidst the gratified 
shouts of all the spectators. 

"Keep the pot a bilin'. Sir," said Sam; and 
down went Wardle again, and then Mr. Pickwick, 

[138] 




Went slowly and gravely down the slide, wUh his feet 
about a yard and a quarter apart. 



' )h, do, please Mr. Pickwick," cried all the 

i should be very happy to afford you any 
amusement,*' replied Mr. Pickwick, "but I haven't 
done such a thing these thirty years.'* 

"Pooh! pooh! nonsense!" said Wardle, drag- 
ging off his skaits with the impetuosity which 
< baracterised all his proceedings. "Here; I'll 
keep you company; come along.'* And away 
tvent the good-tempered old fellow down the 



slide, with "^ a 






close 




;pon Mr. V 






oy all i ' 




nothing. 






' 


Mr. Pickwick ] 






d off 1 


iis gloves and put 


them in < 




wo or 




hree short nir 




if as 


often, and 


;s.i last took isj 






v and 


1 


i:vavely down ibe 


fihdc, with ; 




about a 


vard and a quarter apa 


the gratified i j 


ts of all the spectators. 






1 
1 


the pot 


a bilin'. Sir," 


said 


Sam; and \ 


duwu went Wardle 


again, and then Mr 


. Pickwick, 




[ 138 ] 












MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

and then Sam, and then Mr. Winkle, and then 
Mr. Bob Sawyer, and then the fat boy, and then 
Mr. Snodgrass, following closely upon each other's 
heels, and running after each other with as much 
eagerness as if all their future prospects in life 
depended on their expedition. 

It was the most intensely interesting thing, to 
observe the manner in which Mr. Pickwick per- 
formed his share in the ceremony: to watch the 
torture of anxiety with which he viewed the per- 
son behind, gaining upon him at the imminent 
hazard of tripping him up: to see him gradually 
expend the painful force which he had put on at 
first, and turn slowly round on the slide, with his 
face towards the point from which he had started : 
to contemplate the playful smile which mantled 
on his face when he had accomplished the dis- 
tance, and the eagerness with which he turned 
round when he had done so, and ran after his 
predecessor, his black gaiters tripping pleasantly 
through the snow, and his eyes beaming cheer- 
fulness and gladness through his spectacles. And 

[ 1" ] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

when he was knocked down (which happened 
upon the average every third round), it was the 
most invigorating sight that can possibly be 
imagined, to behold him gather up his hat, 
gloves, and handkerchief, with a glowing coun- 
tenance, and resume his station in the rank, 
with an ardour and enthusiasm which nothing 
could abate. 

The sport was at its height, the sliding was at 
the quickest, the laughter was at the loudest, 
when a sharp smart crack was heard. There 
was a quick rush towards the bank, a wild scream 
from the ladies, and a shout from Mr. Tupman. 
A large mass of ice disappeared, the water bub- 
bled up over it, and Mr. Pickwick's hat, gloves, 
and handkerchief were floating on the surface: 
and this was all of Mr. Pickwick that anybody 
could see. 

Dismay and anguish were depicted on every 
countenance; the males turned pale, and the 
females fainted; Mr. Snodgrass and Mr. Winkle 
grasped each other by the hand, and gazed at 

[ 142 ] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

the spot where their leader had gone down, with 
frenzied eagerness; while Mr. Tupman, by way 
of rendering the promptest assistance, and at the 
same time conveying to any persons who might 
be within hearing, the clearest possible notion of 
the catastrophe, ran off across the country at his 
utmost speed, screaming "Fire!" with all his 
might and main. 

It was at this very moment, when old Wardle 
and Sam Weller were approaching the hole with 
cautious steps, and Mr. Benjamin Allen was 
holding a hurried consultation with Mr. Bob 
Sawyer, on the advisability of bleeding the com- 
pany generally, as an improving little bit of pro- 
fessional practice — it was at this very moment 
that a face, head, and shoulders emerged from 
beneath the water, and disclosed the features 
and spectacles of Mr. Pickwick. 

*' Keep yourself up for an instant — for only 
one instant," bawled Mr. Snodgrass. 

"Yes, do; let me implore you — for my sake," 
roared Mr. Winkle, deeply affected. The ad- 

[143] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

juration was rather unnecessary; the probabihty 
being, that if Mr. Pickwick had decHned to keep 
himself up for anybody else's sake, it would have 
occurred to him that he might as well do so, for 
his own. 

**Do you feel the bottom there, old fellow.?" 
said Wardle. 

*'Yes, certainly," replied Mr. Pickwick, wring- 
ing the water from his head and face, and gasp- 
ing for breath. '* I fell upon my back. I couldn't 
get on my feet at first." 

The clay upon so much of Mr. Pickwick's coat 
as was yet visible, bore testimony to the accuracy 
of this statement; and as the fears of the specta- 
tors were still further relieved by the fat boy's 
suddenly recollecting that the water was nowhere 
more than five feet deep, prodigies of valour were 
performed to get him out. After a vast quantity 
of splashing, and cracking, and struggling, Mr. 
Pickwick was at length fairly extricated from his 
unpleasant position, and once more stood on dry 
land. 

[ 144 ] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

" Oh, he'll catch his death of cold," said Emily. 

"Dear old thing!" said Arabella. "Let me j 
wrap this shawl round you, Mr. Pickwick." 

"Ah, that's the best thing you can do," said 
Wardle; "and when you've got it on, run home 
as fast as your legs can carry you, and jump into 
bed directly." 

A dozen shawls were offered on the instant; 
and three or four of the thickest having been 
selected, Mr. Pickwick was wrapped up, and 
started off, under the guidance of Mr. Weller; 
presenting the singular phenomenon of an elderly 
gentleman dripping wet, and without a hat, with 
his arms bound down to his sides, skimming 
over the ground without any clearly defined pur- 
pose, at the rate of six good EngHsh miles an 
hour. 

But Mr. Pickwick cared not for appearances 
in such an extreme case, and urged on by Sam 
Weller, he kept at the very top of his speed until 
he reached the door of Manor Farm, where Mr. 
Tupman had arrived some five minutes before, 

[145] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

and had frightened the old lady into palpitations 
of the heart, by impressing her with the unalter- 
able conviction that the kitchen chimney was on 
fire — a calamity which always presented itself 
in the most glowing colours to the old lady's 
mind, when anybody about her evinced the 
smallest agitation. 

Mr. Pickwick paused not an instant until he 
was snug in bed. Sam Weller lighted a blazing 
fire in the room, and took up his dinner; a bowl 
of punch was carried up afterwards, and a grand 
carouse held in honour of his safety. Old Wardle 
would not hear of his rising, so they made the bed 
the chair, and Mr. Pickwick presided. A second 
and a third bowl were ordered in; and when Mr. 
Pickwick awoke next morning, there was not a 
symptom of rheumatism about him, which proves, 
as Mr. Bob Sawyer very justly observed, that 
there is nothing like hot punch in such cases, 
and that if ever hot punch did fail to act as a 
preventive, it was merely because the patient fell 
into the vulgar error of not taking enough of it. 

[146] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

The jovial party broke up next morning. 
Breakings up are capital things in our school 
days, but in after life they are painful enough. 
Death, self-interest, and fortune's changes, are 
every day breaking up many a happy group and 
scattering them far and wide; and the boys and 
girls never come back again. We do not mean 
to say that it was exactly the case in this particu- 
lar instance; all we wish to inform the reader is, 
that the different members of the party dispersed 
to their several homes; that Mr. Pickwick and 
his friends once more took their seats on the top 
of the Muggleton coach; and that Arabella Allen 
repaired to her place of destination, wherever it 
might have been — we dare say Mr. Winkle 
knew, but we confess we don't — under the care 
and guardianship of her brother Benjamin, and 
his most intimate and particular friend, Mr. Bob 
Sawyer. 

Before they separated, however, that gentle- 
man and Mr. Benjamin Allen drew Mr. Pickwick 
aside with an air of some mystery; and Mr. Bob 

[147] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

Sawyer thrusting his forefinger between two of 
Mr. Pickwick's ribs, and thereby displaying his 
native drollery, and his knowledge of the anatomy 
of the human frame, at one and the same time, 
enquired — 

"I say, old boy, where do you hang out?" 

Mr. Pickwick replied that he was at present 
suspended at the George and Vulture. 

**I wish you'd come and see me," said Bob 
Sawyer. 

"Nothing would give me greater pleasure,'* 
replied Mr. Pickwick. 

"There's my lodgings," said Mr. Bob Sawyer, 
producing a card, "Lant Street, Borough; it's 
near Guy's, and handy for me you know. Little 
distance after you've passed Saint George's Church 
— turns out of the High Street on the right hand 
side the way." 

"I shall find it," said Mr. Pickwick. 

" Come on Thursday week, and bring the other 
chaps with you," said Mr. Bob Sawyer, "I'm 
going to have a few medical fellows that night." 

[148] 



MR. PICKWICK'S CHRISTMAS 

Mr. Pickwick expressed the pleasure it would 
afford him to meet the medical fellows; and after 
Mr. Bob Sawyer had informed him that he meant 
to be very cosey, and that his friend Ben was to 
be one of the party, they shook hands and sepa- 
rated. 

We feel that in this place we lay ourself open 
to the enquiry whether Mr. Winkle was whisper- 
ing, during this brief conversation, to Arabella 
Allen, and if so, what he said; and furthermore, 
whether Mr. Snodgrass was conversing apart 
with Emily Wardle, and if so, what he said. To 
this, we reply, that whatever they might have 
said to the ladies, they said nothing at all to Mr. 
Pickwick or Mr . Tupman for eight-and-twenty 
miles, and that they sighed very often, refused 
ale and brandy, and looked gloomy. If our 
observant lady readers can deduce any satisfac- 
tory inferences from these facts, we beg them by 
all means to do so. 



[149] 




Ji-,'/./''"'^'^^ 



vi>>e?^ 



OCT 2 1906 



